


Silhouettes Dancing

by DiamantNoir



Series: Powers That Be [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Death, Ghosts, M/M, Shadows - Freeform, Strangers to Lovers, Superpowers, Ten is an angsty child, Ten struggles, because Ten's power is literally death, dance, dance competition, hints at Markhyuck, internal struggles, minor luwoo - Freeform, taeyong is getting married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamantNoir/pseuds/DiamantNoir
Summary: Ten has too much to deal with and the ghosts that seek him out are not helping. And neither does their new addition to the dance crew.With Kun leaving and a dance competition coming up in less than four months, the team is desperate for a replacement. Unfortunately, for Ten, that means welcoming Hendery, who's all smiles and glow. Ten's got a long list of things he knows he can't have in life, and love is one of those things.Too bad Hendery didn't get that memo.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Wong Kun Hang | Hendery, Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta
Series: Powers That Be [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730035
Comments: 28
Kudos: 126





	Silhouettes Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! I'm back with a new part.  
> For new readers: There are more parts to this series. You don't need to read them all, but it might be nice to just to get the backstories and the world. 
> 
> I had a hard time with this one and that's why it's a little late. I'm so sorry for that! I'll try not to keep you waiting for the next one! This one is definitely the complete opposite of the Yuwin fluff from the last story.  
> Not going to lie, I was tempted to make this Ten/Johnny, but Ten/Hendery made more sense, and I hope you'll enjoy it regardless! Don't worry, though, Johnny still shows up haha
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ten wakes up to an old lady’s face hovering above him.

It takes a little while to register it, to blink the sleep from his eyes, but, sure enough, she’s there. He grunts and rolls over towards the wall. Sometimes, if he’s lucky—which isn’t usually—he can ignore them long enough and get a bit more shut-eye.

Apparently, this was not one of those times.

“Wake up,” the lady snaps. “I know you saw me. Get up.”

Ten groans and sits up, blankets wrapped around his waist. The cool morning air of his apartment settles on his arms uncomfortably. He just wants to go back to sleep. Running his fingers through his hair, he reaches out to the bedside table and grabs his phone to check the time. The brightness hurts his eyes.

“It’s four o’clock in the fucking morning,” he says, voice still raspy from his sleep. “Go away and come back when the sun’s up.”

“Don’t you use that language on me, young man,” says the old lady. She places her hands on her hips and glares at him. “Now, get up and help me.”

“How did you even find me?” he asks as he rubs at his eyes. They’re so tired. He’s only been asleep for a few hours since he stayed up to write a paper. Perhaps not the best choice, but welcome to university life.

“People talk on this side,” is the reply.

Ten frowns. “Nice to know I’m so popular among the dead. Now, come back in the morning. I’m busy.”

Grabbing his blanket, he flops back down on the mattress and turns to face the wall once again. There’s a moment when it’s silent and Ten gets his hopes up. He really shouldn’t have.

“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.” Ten squeezes his eyes shut, holding his breath because he’s in an apartment building with very thin walls and he can’t scream. Not at four in the morning. “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Hey! Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Hey! Row, row—”

Ten snaps up, twisting around the find the old lady smirking at him. Glaring at her, he quietly shouts, “You’re dead! Move the fuck on!”

“Rude boy!” she snips. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“One, my mother is dead. Two, I don’t kiss anyone with this mouth so I can swear all I fucking like. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Now, get the fuck out!”

She glares at him, eyes dark and sharp. She reaches out and her hand runs right through his head. It’s cold and jarring and Ten tries his best not to flinch. When she doesn’t get the reaction she wants, she moves back to the center of his bedroom and stares him down.

Ten thinks she probably used to be very pretty when she was younger because, really, she’s still quite the looker in her old age. Her gray hair is shoulder-length with slight curls. He can see the laugh lines around her mouth, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, telling him she probably had a happy life, despite how horrible she was being right now. But she was also dead, so perhaps that had something to do with it.

The thing about ghosts is that they don’t look that much different from any other living person. The majority of the time, they aren’t transparent. They’re as vibrant as the living. Sure, there are times where they get weak and lose some color, or perhaps the way they die would start to seep through the human mask they habitually appear in, but that isn’t often. Even still, over the years, Ten’s seen his fair share of horrifying ghosts with burns and terrible wounds simply because the ghost was too weak to control their appearance.

Even though they seem so much like the living, Ten can tell they are anything but. It’s the way they feel. It’s cold, unnatural. It sends a shiver down his spine when they’re near. They aren’t supposed to be in this realm. They have their own. Something Ten can’t touch, but a place he can help them get to. Well, that’s what he figures he’s supposed to do. He doesn’t necessarily like the job. It’s just that he’s the only one that can do it.

He hates being a good person.

Groaning, he stands up, hands on his hips. “What do you want?”

“Finally,” the old lady says with a huff. “What is wrong with today’s youth? Disrespecting their elders like that. Now, hurry up, I want to send a letter.”

He bites his tongue. Ten knows he can be sharp. He knows he can be a bit rough around the edges, especially when he talks, and right now he just wants to get this over with. So, he keeps his words to himself and heads over to his desk, grabbing a scrap piece of paper and a pen.

“What do you want to say?”

Clearing her throat, she says, “Dear, Soojin. I just want to apologize for our last conversation. Perhaps it could have gone better. However, I still stand by what I said. You will go to Hell.” Ten paused, pen halting. “I hope you can come to terms with the fact that your way of living is unnatural and that being with another woman will only bring you a terrible life and a special spot in Hell.”

Ten sits back and slides his gaze over to the woman. She isn’t looking at him. Instead, she’s pacing along his room with her hands fluttering around as she speaks ill of this Soojin girl. He pities any person who came across this woman in their lives.

She stops. “Well? Why aren’t you writing?”

Because you’re a bitch, he wants to say.

He’s tempted to tell her that he’s gay. That he’s so fucking gay, and that his roommate is just as gay with a boyfriend, both of who are sleeping in the same bed in the room down the hall. Maybe then she’ll leave him alone.

Then again, maybe she’ll make it her job to haunt him forever and he’d never get rid of her. So, with a wrinkled nose, he turns back to the letter. He writes what she wants, slides it into an envelope, and seals it. He hates how he grabs his jacket and heads to the mailbox in the lobby of the apartment building. He hates it even more when the old lady smiles as he slips it into the posthole.

“Now, you can leave,” he says.

“One of these days, your rude attitude is going to get you into trouble,” she grumbles. “Horrible boy, you are.”

He rolls his eyes. He’s been called worse.

It doesn’t take long. It never really does because once that small bit of leftover business is done, there’s nothing left to hold them to this dimension. The old lady fades from view, still glaring at Ten.

It’s a headache. Sure, at first it was sort of nice to help out, but now it’s nothing but an annoyance. It interrupts everything in his life, including his sleep schedule.

Looking down at his phone, he realizes it’s close to five. He has an hour and a half before he has to be up for his morning class. He rubs at his sore eyes and heads back up to his apartment, careful not to wake his roommate and his boyfriend, and climbs into bed.

He lies there, staring at the ceiling in the dark, shadows creeping in. Maybe, at first, he didn’t mind it, but now? He hates his ability. There’s nothing good that comes with communicating with the dead. Of that he’s sure.

*

“You’re late,” Sicheng says as he looks up from his duffle bag. There’s a crease between his eyebrows that reads both confusion and a bit of concern. Ten ignores it and drops his own bag along the edge of the studio with all the others. “Is everything okay? I heard you leave really early this morning.”

He shrugs off his jacket and throws it over his bag. “Old lady,” is all he says and Sicheng simply nods.

The one thing Ten likes about Sicheng is that he doesn’t ask a lot of questions. He thinks that’s probably one of the main reasons Ten agreed to live with him. Sicheng ignores the times Ten looks like he’s talking to himself and when he wanders to and from the apartment at odd hours. He simply asks to make sure Ten is okay and then leaves him alone. It’s one thing Ten takes comfort in.

They’ve been roommates for almost two years now. And about three months ago, Sicheng’s boyfriend, Yuta, moved in. Luckily, it isn’t that bad. Despite Yuta’s complete lack of brain-to-mouth filter, at least he and Sicheng are respectful when Ten’s around. They’re quiet and spend most of their time in their room. They keep the lovey-dovey stuff out of view. Ten is kind of thankful. He’s never been a romantic person. Plus, it cuts their rent down, so Ten definitely isn’t going to complain.

Taking a place beside Sicheng, he starts to stretch. Yuta is there, too. He’s bent at the waist, legs perfectly straight as he scrolls through his phone that’s placed on the floor. They won’t be dancing much today, but he’s expecting at least a little practice. And apparently so are Yuta and Sicheng.

He reaches forward, resting his elbows on the floor with his legs out to either side. It pulls the muscles in his back and along his thighs. He lets his eyes drift along the studio. The tall windows and wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors make the room bright and open. With his sore, tried eyes, it’s a little much, but at least it’s forcing him awake. After a long day of classes, it’s much needed.

The music Hyunjae and Juyeon have turned on barely covers the small crowd’s voices as it pumps out the amps in steady beats. And as people start filtering in, the noise level increases, making them turn it up just a little more. Ten’s not sure his eardrums are enjoying the mix of sound-chaos.

The ages vary from high school to late university students, rounding up to just over twenty people. They’re all serious about their dancing, all determined to show the world what they can do. Ten is one of them. He wants to be on a stage. He wants to be a professional that captures the attention of wandering eyes when he dances because dancing is the only thing that keeps him sane. It takes his mind off of death and the afterlife and the many annoying ghosts that keep interrupting his life.

He glances up just as a burst of wind rushes past him. The blur of movement shocks him upright and YangYang is suddenly there, bag in hand and chest rising and falling rapidly. His dark hair’s been blown from his face and now sticking up at odd angles.

“How late am I?” he asks as he drops next to Sicheng.

“We’re still waiting for Eunhyuck, Donghae, and Hyolyn to show up,” Sicheng replies. He points his toes to stretch them out. “How was school?”

“Boring. I hate it. My teacher gave me detention again.”

YangYang is one of their youngest crew members, barely out of high school yet. Just last year, he moved to town from China. His parents jump around often, dragging him with them. Born in Taiwan, lived in Germany, hopped to China, and now he’s in Korea. His Korean still has a bit of an accent and it’s kind of cute in a way.

Fixing his hair in the mirror, YangYang continues to babble on about his detention and how he had to rush over to make it on time. Honestly, Ten isn’t sure why he was so worried. YangYang has the ability of super speed. He could make it anywhere he wanted to in seconds.

Yeah, Ten’s a bit jealous. So sue him. It’s not like talking to the dead is super thrilling.

He takes in the crowd. Soyeon catches his eye and sticks her tongue out at him. Rolling his eyes, he flips her off and moves to stretch out his back. The one nice thing about their eclectic crew is that they all get along. Maybe they don’t all know each other like best friends and, perhaps, a few of them have too large of a personality to really deal with on a daily basis, but they all share a goal and they’re all supportive. Ten genuinely likes all of them, even if he doesn’t say it aloud.

The door to the studio opens and two men and one woman walk through. Eunhyuck has a clipboard in his hands, eyes dragging along the information it holds while Donghae and Hyolyn whisper to him. They’re all leaders, all owners of the dance studio building, but Eunhyuck was the one that started it before he brought them in for help. He handles the majority of the choices. Sometimes it’s funny to see him wandering around with the other two trailing after him throughout the hallways.

Eunhyuck stops and leans over to talk to Momo and Tzuyu. They nod emphatically and run over to Hyunjae and his friends in the corner to get them to turn down the music. When it’s vanishes, everyone turns to the owners.

“All right, listen up,” Eunhyuck says, voice carrying over them with ease.

Much like most of the people in the room, Ten’s known about Eunhyuck, Donghae, and Hyolyn since he was a young teenager. They were popular—still are popular—in the dance community. They have the skills, the talent, the creativity. There’s a waitlist to get into their classes. Ten was one of the lucky ones to get in. Needless to say, if Eunhyuck, Donghae, or Hyolyn speak, people listen.

Donghae crosses his arms. “We’ve got less than four months to put together our show. We need you all to have your group’s performances together by the end of the month. This will give us more than enough time to slot it together and fix any issues we have.”

“You should be close to finishing,” Hyolyn puts in. “We’ve been planning this long enough.”

It’s true, they had. Near the end of August, the city puts on an annual dance competition. Anyone can sign up for it, and it’s no surprise that this dance studio was going all in. They did every year. Of course, Eunhyuck had decided fairly early on that it was going to have an audition process, just to keep things to a smaller number and make it easier on the studio. By now, they had all auditioned, all been given a group, and had started planning out their performance that would later be conjoined with everyone else’s.

Ten pulls his legs up to his chest and hugs them. His own, smaller dance crew should be close to the finish line. But they aren’t. Because last month, Kun left them. It isn’t like Ten blames him. Kun’s been studying pre-med for the last few years and to be a doctor takes a lot of effort and time. Time Kun’s simply run out of. Unfortunately, it’s left a hole in their choreography that they’re going to have to fill very soon.

It makes Ten’s nerves heighten. He likes plans and staying on track. Currently, they were neither on track, nor had a plan. Or, well, they had a slight plan, but to Ten’s mind that basically meant a blank slate.

“We’ll be going around to each group to help where we can,” Eunhyuck says. “Team C, I’m with you.”

Hyunjae shoots him finger guns and turns to his group. They’re the largest in the room. While they’re all talented dancers, their choreography focuses more on acrobatics. It brings something interesting when the whole group comes together for the finale.

From Eunhyuck’s side, Hyolyn points to Soyeon, Soojin, and Yuqi. “You three are mine for the next hour.”

Soyeon smirks. “Looking forward to it.”

“Team D,” Donghae says, looking to Nayeon and her small group, “You and me. Team B, one of us will be with you soon.”

“Let’s not waste any more time,” says Eunhyuck. “We’ve got the rest of the studios booked for the evening, so feel free to spread out. And you,” he turns and points at Ten’s group, “I need to talk to you. All right, let’s get to work.”

Everyone’s moving. Hyunjae and his crew head out the door to one of the other studios with Eunhyuck telling them he’ll be right with them. The rest of the crews do the same, disappearing through the door to their usual studios within the building. While everyone is getting into their places, Eunhyuck crosses the room.

“You have auditions today, right?” he asks.

Sicheng nods. “Yeah, we’re seeing about seven people. They should be arriving soon. You’re not joining us?”

Eunhyuck shakes his head. It’s odd, however, because as the leader of their whole dance crew, he gets the final say on who joins. He’s been to all the auditions, seen each and every one of them perform. The fact that he’s not going to be here to help choose the new member of Ten’s group is a little strange.

“I trust you guys. I’ll check out whoever it is once you’ve made a decision,” he tells them with a smile. “Besides, I doubt Ten’ll allow anyone lackluster into this group.”

Ten purses his lips and nods. Yeah, that’s true. He won’t settle for the lower bar. He has high expectations. Kun may not have been the best dancer at first, but he got better and whoever is coming in has big shoes to fill.

Eunhyuck leaves shortly after that, and Sicheng and Yuta grab one of the folding tables from the storage room while YangYang and Ten gather up four chairs. They set the auditions to start at six-thirty and Sicheng has the list in his hand of the people who responded to their ad online. Ten hasn’t really checked the names, but that hardly matters. He just needs someone who can impress him and keep up.

He doesn’t mean to brag—or maybe he does a bit—but he’s good. Ten’s one of the better dancers if anyone else’s opinions are anything to go by. He’s been dancing since he was a child and is pretty well versed in all styles. He has one skill and he’s taken it upon himself to perfect it.

His crew members are pretty much the same. Sicheng’s been doing contemporary for years and, since he started dating Yuta, he’s getting much better at the hip hop style, which Yuta’s mastered pretty much flawlessly. YangYang is young, but he’s full of energy and it comes through his steps and moves every time. His overwhelming potential, plus his current skills, is eye-catching.

So, yeah, the new kid will have to prove himself.

“He’s good,” YangYang is saying as he drops into the chair on Ten’s left. “I think you guys will like him.”

“Who?” Ten asks. He’s hardly been paying attention to the conversation. He has their music playing over and over in his mind, choreography forming with every beat. Not to mention, he’s pretty sure he has a paper due in the morning, which he hasn’t started. Damn it.

Sicheng takes Ten’s right. “YangYang’s got a friend coming to audition. I’ve met him once before. He’s really friendly. Never seen him dance, though.”

“Mostly hip hop,” YangYang fills in. “He doesn’t really do it professionally either. He just does it for fun, but I convinced him to come.”

“If he doesn’t dance professionally, do you think he can actually dance on stage for a competition?” Ten doesn’t mean for the question to sound rude, but dancing in a competition is a lot of nerves and pressure even for someone who’s been doing it for years.

YangYang nods. “He’s good. Promise.”

“Well, until he gets here, let’s deal with everyone else,” Sicheng says.

Now, Ten’s filter is better than Yuta’s, but he’s definitely blunt when he wants to be, especially when it comes to things he knows about. Like dancing.

He doesn’t have tact when he tells the first person they’re timing is off, or when the third person is better suited for the pole rather than the dance floor—he earns a kick in the leg from Sicheng for that comment. Ten knows what he wants in their new dancer. He knows what they need. After six people, he knows that none of them fit the bill.

He scratches out the second last name and eyes the one that he believes to be YangYang’s friend. Kunhang Wong. As much as he respects YangYang, Ten’s feeling a little deflated and he’s starting to think that no one is going to fit the image in his head. Not even this Kunhang person.

“Hen!” YangYang shouts, suddenly. Ten flinches as his voice echoes around the room. The chair screeches beside him and there’s a blur of motion. When Ten looks up, YangYang is right beside the newest addition by the door. “Glad you could make it.”

Ten squints. The first thing he notices is that this boy is young looking. Or perhaps he just has that kind of face. Ten’s just turned twenty-two and he’s well aware he could pass as a seventeen-year-old if he so chose to. So, he wouldn’t be surprised if this boy was his age. Although, he doesn’t quite look it, especially when he smiles. He positively beams at YangYang, appearing child-like, friendly.

Great, Ten thinks, because they need another one of those types hanging around. Happy people are exhausting.

“Come meet the crew,” YangYang’s saying as the two of them travel closer. “Guys, this is Hendery.”

Hendery. Ten looks him up and down, taking in his average height and the way his dark fringe hangs into his eyes. He’s face is longer, his jaw angular, and when he smiles brightly it transforms his entire being into a star. Quite literally. The boy is glowing.

Ten shakes his head, trying not to roll his eyes because, yeah, this is exactly what they’re missing in their dance crew: a fucking spotlight.

“Nice to meet you.” His voice isn’t deep, not like Lucas’—one of Yuta’s friends, who Ten’s met once or twice—but it’s smooth and sends an odd shiver down Ten’s spine. He shifts in his chair.

“This says Kunhang Wong,” Yuta says as he checks the list again with his brows furrowed.

“Hendery is just a nickname,” explains YangYang. “That’s Yuta, by the way. Sicheng’s boyfriend.”

Hendery waves, body still giving off a slight glow. Ten hopes he can control that. Then, Hendery reaches forward to bump fists with Sicheng, greeting him in flawless Mandarin. It’s shocking, really, how nice it sounds when he speaks his native language. Ten doesn’t think Sicheng sounds like that. Then again, the only time Sicheng speaks Mandarin is when he’s teaching Ten or yelling at him for leaving his dishes in the sink.

“And this is Ten,” YangYang says.

“Ten?”

Humming, Ten makes a note on the sheet of paper in front of him that reads, ‘Does he ever stop glowing?’ He may not be looking at Hendery, but he can feel the surprise and confusion that’s forming on his face. An expression Ten’s used to when people hear his name, even if it’s not his real one.

“It’s a nickname,” Sicheng supplies.

“Because his real one is ridiculous,” puts in Yuta.

Ten narrows his eyes at the evaluation sheet.

“What is it?” This is Hendery. “Your real name, I mean.”

“Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul,” he says, flatly.

He knows his name is complicated for anyone who isn’t Thai, usually. He’s used to the looks, used to the questions. That’s what he gets for moving to Korea where the names don’t usually extend past four syllables.

“Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul?” There’s a pause. Ten drops his pen and looks up. Hendery is watching him with wide, dark eyes. He glances at YangYang and then to Ten. “Did I say it wrong?”

No, he didn’t. In fact, he had said it perfectly and Ten is kind of impressed. Kind of. And he’s feeling incredibly bitter about being impressed. It shouldn’t be that shocking that someone can say his name. Perfectly. Articulation and everything.

“No, you said it right,” Ten finally manages to say, trying to school his features to not show his surprise. He clears his throat. “Most people can’t.”

Hendery smiles. “Dejun and I spent some time in Thailand last year, so I picked up a few things.”

“Dejun?” Yuta perks up.

“Yeah,” Hendery nods. “Xiao Dejun. I travel with him when he goes to new shoots and stuff.

“Xiao Dejun? The model, you mean?” Yuta’s leaning forward on the table, suddenly looking interested. Sicheng side-eyes him, and when he catches the look, Yuta sits back. “What? He’s hot.”

Sicheng glares and Hendery coughs a laugh. “I thought you knew about him.” He looks to YangYang. “You didn’t tell them you knew him?”

“ _You_ know Dejun?” Yuta asks, sounding affronted.

Ten rubs his temple. This isn’t why they’re here.

YangYang hits Hendery on the shoulder. “Because I don’t name drop.”

“I didn’t name drop! I thought you told them already,” Hendery pouts.

“Not that I don’t find this extremely interesting, but can we get back on task,” Ten says. “We have a schedule to keep.”

Dropping his bag by the table, Hendery says, “Good point. Um, how do I hook up my music?”

Ten watches as YangYang leads Hendery over to the amp where he plugs in his phone. He’s not sure what to expect from someone who probably dances more in his bedroom than in a studio. The odd thing is, Hendery doesn’t look nervous. While he may have stopped glowing, he also seems perfectly comfortable as he shrugs off his jacket and starts toward the center of the room.

Watching people dance is interesting, Ten thinks. There’s always a variety, stemming from parties to clubs to actual performances. When people dance, it’s amazing what kinds of information people can gather. Are they sensual? Are they attention seekers? Do they do it for fun or are they trying too hard? How’s their balance? Their grace?

It’s amazing how people can transform from one person to another. Yuta becomes cooler. Which, in and of itself, is a bit of a shocker since Yuta’s hardly cool at all in reality. He knows how to use his power, his balance, his control in every motion he makes. Sicheng doesn’t change all that much, though maybe that’s because he’s always had a handle on himself. Sicheng’s grace and beauty even in everyday life.

Ten’s seen people change completely, to have the mask of their average life slip away to reveal something a lot more powerful and attractive. Ten, himself, has been told he appears more relaxed when he dances. He supposes it’s true because dance is his relief from everything else. It’s the one thing he finds easy and simple and something he doesn’t have to try desperately to do.

So, in actuality, it shouldn’t be shocking to see the way Hendery transforms when he finally starts moving to the beat. The friendly, smiley persona is gone, replaced with someone totally opposite. There’s a heated confidence of someone who knows what he’s doing. The fluidity of each twist of his body and shift of his hips has Ten drawn in. He connects every move to the next effortlessly, and when he flashes a smirk Ten stills, hand tightening on his pen.

His style is more like Yuta’s, strong and sharp. He knows how to pop each part of his body and that’s kind of impressive in Ten’s book, especially after seeing the other auditions before this. Hendery’s perfectly on beat, he’s coordinated, and, worst of all, he’s good.

Ten isn’t bitter. He shouldn’t be because Hendery would fit well with them and even he can’t lie about that. But this whole thing is making him miss Kun, and the whole process of finding a replacement sort of hurts. It’s not Hendery’s fault. But it feels like it is.

When the music finally stops, Hendery does a bow and rushes to stop his music before the next song can play. The first few bars sound like the opening to an anime, but Ten can’t judge. He has some questionable, guilty-pleasure music of his own on his phone.

It’s amazing how fast Hendery switches back. His shoulders are relaxed and his smile wide. It’s just as bright as he glows.

“Well?” YangYang asks, turning to them. Ten can already tell where YangYang’s vote is going. “He’s good, right?”

Ten glances at Hendery. He’s standing in the middle of the studio with his hands clasped behind his back as he waits. Once again, he doesn’t look nervous and Ten wonders if he ever does. Surely, dancing in front of, not only his friends, but strangers, and then waiting for evaluation would be a bit nerve-wracking. At least for someone who doesn’t perform regularly.

His eyes narrow when Hendery smiles at him. He doesn’t know why he feels offended, but he does, so he looks to Sicheng and Yuta.

Like YangYang, Sicheng seems quite happy about the whole thing. He nods at Ten and then tilts his head. And Yuta is bouncing in his seat. While Ten’s pretty sure that’s because Yuta hates sitting for long periods of time, it could have been because he likes Hendery. Both were fairly good choices.

“I like him,” Yuta says. “I think he’d be good. He can round out our styles a bit more.”

Sicheng nods. “I agree. Ten?”

Ten leans back in his chair. It’s not surprising that it comes down to him, but it’s also quite annoying. Despite never been clearly stated, Ten and Kun had been the leaders to some extent. Kun mostly because he could keep people focused and genuinely cared for all of them like a big brother. Ten, on the other hand, was the one that came up with the ideas. He started the crew in the first place, gathering Kun and Sicheng together. Then allowing Yuta, and then finally finding YangYang. So, yeah, it isn’t shocking he has to make the final choice.

He eyes Hendery again. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Hendery replies promptly. “Turning nineteen this year.”

Bloody hell. Another teenager. Just what he needs. YangYang and Yuta’s mentality was enough trouble. Looking at the human form of a puppy in front of him, Ten is sure having Hendery in the crew will be an even bigger headache, but at this point he’s the final one to give his acceptance. He’s out numbered even if he were to say no.

“You in university?” he asks.

“Just started. Dejun’s taking a break from his modelling for a bit, so I actually have time to settle down and learn something.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he chuckles. Ten doesn’t find that endearing at all.

“Program?”

“Aerospace.”

Ten looks to YangYang, but the boy is laughing silently into his hand and not paying any attention to Ten’s shock. “Isn’t that a heavy-duty program? When are you going to find the time to do this?”

“Ten,” Sicheng hisses.

“It’s okay,” Hendery says, quickly. “It’s a valid question. Don’t worry, though. I’m really good at time management. I’ll be here for the practices.”

Ten nods and points to the schedule on the table. “With the upcoming competition we’re here quite a lot. We meet Monday and Friday at six. If you’ve got a later class on any of those days day, we’ll give you a break, but we expect you to make up the lost time. We also sometimes meet up on the weekends. You’ll get a message if we’re planning on it.”

“Wait, does that mean I’m in?”

Shrugging, Ten holds out the sheet and waves it a bit. Hendery rushes to take it out of his hand. Standing this close, on the other side of the table, Ten notes that Hendery really _is_ good looking. When Hendery smiles at him, he starts to glow. Ten raises a brow at that.

“Our numbers are on that. Make sure you program them in. YangYang will add you to our group chat. I’m not going to lie, I’m not a nice person when I think people are slacking and I’m definitely not easy going. I’ll tell you if I’m not pleased. I extend the same curtesy to everyone in this crew.”

Hendery’s nodding so fast that Ten thinks it must hurt his neck at least a little bit. And he’s also pretty sure that if Hendery had a tail it would be wagging because, wow, he looks so fucking excited and Ten isn’t sure how to handle this kind of reaction.

“You got it, chief!” he exclaims. Ten narrows his eyes and Hendery smiles sheepishly. “Too much?”

Ten knows he’s going to struggle through this. “We also need your school schedule, so make sure you send that to the chat.”

“Will do. Promise.”

Ten frowns at the raised pinkie Hendery's put before him. "What are you doing?"

"It's a pinkie promise," Hendery responds, brightly.

"I know what it is. Get it away from me."

Sicheng snorts.

Ignoring him, Ten gestures at Hendery. “You also need to get that glowing thing under control. We can’t have that on stage. Got it?”

Hendery nods again. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Do you have time right now?”

“Yeah.”

That’s how they end up starting their performance piece. Hendery is a fast learner, Ten will give him that. He listens well, too. He may not be Kun, but he’s just as diligent. He watches each of them with great interest, especially Ten.

Ten knows Hendery is watching him every time he gets up to demonstrate something. The gaze practically burns holes into him. Worst part is, Hendery doesn’t even try to hide it because every time Ten catches him, Hendery simply smiles at him.

Eunhyuck comes in about an hour later to meet Hendery and he seems quite pleased, so at least there’s that. Ten feels like they’re finally getting back on track. Even though at the end of it he sends Kun a text that tells him he hates him for leaving the group and he better pass all his exams or Kun’s ghost will be the next one he sees.

Hendery waves at Ten on the way out of the studio. Ten ignores him.

*

Ten wants to be indifferent to Hendery. He kind of wants to dislike him, too. But he knows that it isn’t Hendery’s fault he’s currently learning their semi-pieced together choreography. It’s Kun that Ten should be mad at, for leaving a hole in their crew so close to the competition. Except, Kun has a good excuse to leave and Ten knows that he has no right to be mad, so now he’s just being a petulant child, and maybe a little unnecessarily picky.

“You weren’t supposed to leave,” Ten had practically whined into the phone, the moment he got home from auditions and handed Kun’s position over to Hendery.

Kun’s laugh had been light, albeit a little tired. “You’ll be fine. Give him a chance, yeah? Who knows, you might end up liking him better than me.”

“Doubtful.”

Ten knows he’s being stupid and stubborn.

So, when Sicheng whispers to him that he’s being a jerk after Ten’s verbally corrected Hendery one too many times than actually required, Ten can’t help but huff and turn away. Because he knows. He knows he needs to stop and not be so hard on Hendery, especially because Hendery is just so nice about it.

Every time Ten’s corrected him over the last several practices—they’re going on week two now—Hendery simply smiles and does the move again. He’s never spoken back, never stopped, and simply just kept going. It’s admirable because Ten knows he’d be a little frustrated at this point.

Wiping along his hair line, Ten looks into the mirror. They’ve barely started practice, so he’s not a complete sweaty mess yet. His black hair is still as spiky as it was this morning when he got up, his pale skin missing that flush it normally gets after dancing for too long. Narrow eyes stare back at him, judging him. Yeah, he really needs to stop being a jerk because even his reflection hates him right now.

Hendery is practicing the same part over and over. It’s the only part they know is staying in. Everything else is still a muddle of movements that aren’t connected yet in any way and Eunhyuck’s starting to bring the hammer down on them. They’re the only ones not nearing the final stages. Still, Hendery works on what they have and his steps are strong, popping. YangYang is next to him, muttering the beat since they haven’t turned the music on.

“You need to start being nice,” Sicheng whispers as he leans against the mirror and stares Ten down. “You aren’t being subtle.”

“I’m not trying to be subtle. I’m trying to get him to realize that I’m not going to hold his hand or anyone else’s.”

“You need to straighten out your priorities. You need to focus on the choreography more than disliking Hendery.”

Ten points to himself. "Nothing is straight about me _but_ my priorities." He catches sight of Hendery mis-stepping and calls out, “Hey! Right foot, not left. And you’re a beat early. Watch it or you’ll throw everyone off.”

Hendery gives him a patient sort of smile and proceeds to do exactly as Ten said, as he always does. The smile on his face grows when he lands on the correct foot and on the beat. Excitedly, he looks to Ten, who nods and turns his attention on Sicheng. He’s met with a blank expression.

“They’re a bit messy, Ten,” Sicheng says. “Hendery’s done nothing wrong. In fact, he’s done everything right. And he likes us, especially you—for god knows what reason because you surely gave him none—so please don’t be an asshole.”

“I don’t need him to like me. I need him to do his job.”

Sighing, Sicheng shakes his head. “I don’t know why you’re so set on hating him.”

“I don’t hate him. I’m treating him like I’d treat you guys.”

“You don’t treat us like that. You’re kicking a puppy, Ten. He’s a sweetheart. Leave him be and maybe try to relax? We still have time.”

“We don’t have time, Sicheng. It’s June now and we have less than three months. And we have one week to get something semi-permanent together before Eunhyuck starts flipping his lid. So, no, I’m not going to relax.”

“Look,” Sicheng says, pushing himself off the mirrors so he can take Ten’s shoulders in his hands, “we’re a team. We’ve got some good pieces. I bet within a week we’ll be right on track with all the other crews. Just learn to breathe, will you?”

The door suddenly bursts open and Yuta comes rushing in, waving his phone in the air. “Sicheng! You won’t believe it. I mean, I can hardly believe it. I had to double check. Thought it was a mistake, or a prank, or something along those lines, but Johnny assured me it wasn’t and guess what! It’s true and—”

“Babe,” Sicheng interrupts with raised brows. “Breathe and tell me.”

Ten wonders if Sicheng ever gets tired of telling people to breathe. He never used to. Not until he spent time with Taeyong. That man’s always telling people to breathe, think, and decide carefully.

“Look!”

Yuta shoves his phone into Sicheng’s face, who flinches and takes the offending object. His eyes scan the messages and then he looks up, smiling. “Actually?”

“You bet!”

“What’s going on?” YangYang asks as he and Hendery complete their circle.

Ten tries to ignore the fact that Hendery is right beside him, a little sweaty, very much red in the cheeks and slightly out of breath. Ten does _not_ think he’s handsome. 

“Taeyong’s getting married,” Sicheng tells him and Ten snatches the phone to read for himself.

**Taeyong:**

**There’s really no formal way for me to say this…**

**So, I’m just going to come out and say it.**

**I’m engaged.**

**Yay?**

“Why does he sound absolutely terrified?”

Ten jumps at Hendery’s voice at his ear. Hendery’s moved closer to read over his shoulder and when Ten twists his head to look at him, he simply blinks innocently as if he hasn’t just invaded Ten’s personal bubble.

Yuta takes his phone back. “That’s just Taeyong. He doesn’t like to be the center of attention. Now, he kind of has no choice. He’s finally getting married.”

“How long have they been dating, again?” Sicheng inquires.

“Well, it would be just over a year now, I think. They had that one sour note for a bit, but that was super early into the relationship. They’ve been solid for a while now,” says Yuta. He’s got a fond sort of smile on his face. “God, can’t believe we’re getting to the age to being married. That’s insane. Soon there’s going to be kids!”

“Whoa there,” Sicheng says, throwing up his hands. “Let’s not rush it. He hasn’t actually gotten married yet. He’s just engaged. I wonder if he messaged me.”

As Sicheng goes off to check his phone, Ten pulls out his own. He’s not super close with Taeyong, but they’ve hung out a few times because of Yuta and Sicheng, and they text on occasion because Ten’s good friends with Taeyong’s best friend, Johnny.

Ten likes Taeyong. There’s something inherently likeable about him. He’s incredibly strong-willed and ridiculously kind. Ten’s not sure there’s anyone who has disliked Taeyong and, if they did, they definitely weren’t on the intelligent side of humanity.

**Taeyong:**

**I was just going to text you, but Yuta’s beat me to it.**

**Anyway, now you know.**

**Good luck with practice.**

**Be nice to the new kid.**

Ten frowns at the messages. Here Ten was, going to congratulate him on his upcoming nuptials and now he’s not so sure.

One of the things Ten had to learn early on was that the closer someone got to Taeyong, the farther away he could hear their thoughts. Ten’s never found it a bad thing, or even that big of a deal. It’s just that, occasionally, it’s somewhat annoying. And not in the strict sense that Taeyong can read his mind, but in the sense that Ten doesn’t like to know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t like hearing it. He doesn’t like being in his own mind, let alone subjecting someone else to it and then have them tell him what’s going on.

Ten likes to hide in the world of pretend. Where he blocks out emotions and thoughts and simply does his day to day life without any actual effort.

Not that it happens a lot, but he tries, anyway.

Yeah, he knows he needs to be nice to the ‘new kid’. He just doesn’t like hearing it.

**Taeyong:**

**There’s going to be an engagement party, by the way.**

**Forgot to mention.**

**Date’s to be decided, but I’ll let you know.**

**And stop sulking.**

Ten wrinkles his nose and drops his phone into his bag. He’s not sulking.

He’s _not_.

When he turns, Hendery is staring right at him. There’s a moment when neither one says anything. Then, Hendery smiles and twists away, starting his practice without music again. It’s short lived, however, because Yuta’s plugging in his phone and they’re back on task.

Over the next week or so, Ten tries not to be an asshole. He lets Sicheng step in when Hendery needs help and Ten keeps to himself mostly, trying desperately to finish their choreography. It’s hard and a little too disappointing because Ten’s used to being seen as the one to go to, the one that has everything ready. One of the shining stars of the studio. Right now, however, he’s feeling anything but. He and his crew aren’t at the top. They’re nearing the bottom, hardly finished with their own piece while everyone else is perfecting theirs.

No one rubs it in his face because they know the whole situation. Having a crew member leave and then replacing them is difficult and it throws a lot off. Still, Ten sees Seulgi’s team of three with their sensual, graceful dance that turns into something more bubbly and striking at the end, and the way Hyunjae’s crew break down into powerful, cutting moves that show off just how much effort and time they’ve put into it, and Ten feels like a failure.

It makes his mood sour even more. His own crew is walking on eggshells and the rest of the groups are casting him small smiles that feel more pitiful than they probably should.

So, come Friday in mid-June, Ten’s still wound tight when he goes to the studio after his afternoon class. No one is around yet, which allows him to take his time plugging in his music and stretch without having to deal with other humans. Luckily, he hasn’t had to deal with ghosts lately either. Still, he knows that it’s only a matter of time before they start lining up again.

By now, the crew has a basic dance. It’s not perfect, but it’s close and Ten’s desperate to iron out the wrinkles. He barely hears the door open and when he finally turns, Hendery is there, watching him. Ten wonders if Hendery knows he has a problem with staring.

“Hey,” Hendery offers as he puts his bag a few feet from Ten’s.

Over the past few weeks, Ten’s never had to deal with Hendery alone. He always shows up with YangYang, who fills in the awkwardness quite nicely. The only time they really communicate is when Ten’s explaining the dance or correcting him. Which, now that he thinks about it, is kind of pathetic.

He nods in greeting and restarts the song, going back to dancing. When he looks in the mirror as he turns, he spots Hendery sitting against the wall with his phone out. He must have sensed Ten’s gaze because he glances up from his phone and catches Ten’s eye instantly. Ten spins away.

The only sound is Ten’s shoes against the smooth floor and the soft beat of the music. Hendery hasn’t said anything, and Ten’s not really expecting him to. He knows Hendery is talkative, nice, friendly—definitely not like Ten in any way—but he also knows Hendery treats Ten a little differently from YangYang, Sicheng, and Yuta. He’s still just as nice, but definitely more careful.

He thinks back to what Sicheng said. Ten’s being a jerk, an asshole, to someone who has given him nothing but patience. He hates that this ugly side of him comes out more often than it should. Change has never been something Ten’s handled well.

“I like that.”

Ten stops mid-move to glance at Hendery. He’s placing his phone down next to his bag and leaning forward. He gestures to Ten and elaborates, “I like that move you did. How did you do that?”

Straightening, Ten faces Hendery head on and waves him over. Hendery is quick to his feet, quick to Ten’s side. He bounces on the balls of his feet, waiting for Ten to show him what he did. He doesn’t say anything. He simply does the move again, a move that’s been in his mind for a while and is a good connecting feature between two very shattered parts in their choreography.

He watches Hendery do it with ease and nods—mostly to himself—because, yeah, that should work. When Hendery keeps going, Ten spots a few places that need fixing and so he does. He fixes them. Hendery lets Ten use him to test out different formulations until something smooth finally comes out.

“You’re good at this,” Hendery says when he pauses to rest. “Choreography, I mean. You’re good at it.”

Ten shifts his weight to his other foot. “Thanks. You’re a good dancer.”

It’s a stiff compliment, Ten thinks. There’s nothing grand about it and, perhaps, he could have said it with a little more heart. Nevertheless, Hendery beams, body lighting with a soft glow.

“Really?” Hendery inquires. He may be smiling, but his voice is edging on meek and Ten realizes that Hendery wants the validation.

Ten nods, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, really.”

“God, that makes me so happy.”

Suddenly, Hendery is on the floor, legs and arms sprawled out. Ten stumbles back, eyebrows raised from the shock of the movement. Hendery smiles up at him. Ten’s not sure how to respond.

“I knew you didn’t particularly like me, but it’s good to know you at least think I have the skills to be here,” Hendery says. The openness slaps Ten in the face. “In the crew with you guys. It’s nice. I like it.”

“Can’t imagine you staying if you didn’t like it. You have to deal with me every practice,” Ten mutters as he moves to turn off the music. It doesn’t look like they’re going to continue until the others start showing up.

“You’re not so bad,” Hendery tells him, blinking up at the ceiling. “I actually really admire you. You’re dancing is pretty incredible. YangYang showed me some of your competitions from a few years ago. Mind blowing.”

Ten’s not sure why, but his cheeks feel warm. He’s used to people telling him that he’s good at dancing. It’s not anything special anymore. Even still, he’s feeling slightly embarrassed and he has to turn away, focusing on his phone where a message from Sicheng pops up, telling Ten they’ll be arriving soon.

“I haven’t done something wrong, have I?”

Ten grips his phone. His heart does an awkward squeeze and Ten knows it’s because he’s feeling guilty. He doesn’t actually hate Hendery. He just _wants_ to hate Hendery. The worst part is, there’s no particular reason why. 

Hendery is good. At dancing and just in general. He’s probably as close to what Ten had wanted when he started the whole audition process. But Hendery is almost too good, too easy going. He doesn’t seem all that bothered by Ten’s attitude. He’s too nice. It’s annoying.

Still, Hendery is looking up at him from the floor with a wrinkled brow, asking him if Ten’s attitude toward him is Hendery’s fault. It’s not. Not really. Ten knows it’s just because he, himself, is bitter, irritable and just a general asshole the majority of the time.

Ten stares at his phone because he’s not sure what else to say. He’s clearly made it obvious that he’s not pleased with the situation, so it seems kind of ridiculous to tell Hendery that everything is okay. There’s no way he’ll believe it. Except, it’s true. Hendery hasn’t done anything wrong and Ten doesn’t actually hate him and why does Ten have to get himself into situations he can’t get out of?

In all honesty, he’s pretty sure it’s because he’s terrible with emotions and doesn’t know how to deal with people. That probably doesn’t help.

Hendery shifts, sitting up. His dark eyes fall on Ten and Ten wants to look away, but he’s not sure he can. He’s actually kind of surprised that Hendery’s waited this long to ask about Ten’s attitude. They’ve been in a crew for almost a month now. That’s a lot of practices, Ten thinks. A lot of time for Hendery to say something. Why now?

Ten watches as Hendery gets to his feet, sighing through his nose slightly. Ten believes he’s giving up, not really expecting Ten to answer anymore. He’s probably thinking he won’t get an answer at all. A horrible feeling sinks in his stomach as Hendery turns to go back to his bag, no smile in sight, and definitely no glow.

Sicheng was right. It was like kicking a puppy and Ten wasn’t that much of a monster.

“I’m not—” Ten cuts himself off, closing his eyes to gather himself before opening them again. Hendery’s stopped moving. He’s is watching Ten, studying his face. Ten looks away. “I’m not good with new people or new situations. I like to control things. I like to have things in order. I don’t hate you and you’ve done nothing wrong, so stop thinking you did.”

“It’s not me, it’s you?”

Ten side-eyes Hendery, whose lips are curling into a smile. “Don’t be annoying.”

“But I’m so good at it,” Hendery teases, stepping closer. When Ten moves back, Hendery looks him over, top to bottom, and smiles. He mutters something in Mandarin, something Ten doesn’t quite catch, and moves to his bag to grab his water bottle.

The door to the studio opens and Sicheng, Yuta, and YangYang wander in. Sicheng’s eyes flick from Hendery to Ten before walking over to Ten’s side.

He leans down just slightly to say, “Are you being nice?”

“Yes, mother,” Ten grumbles as he unplugs his phone and reaches out for Yuta’s. “Don’t be patronizing. I won’t be nice to you during practice if you are.”

“As if you’re ever _nice_ during practice. More like tolerable,” Sicheng says. “Besides, I think that if you give Hendery a chance you might actually like him.”

“Let’s not push it.”

The practice starts and Ten tries his best to be inclusive. ‘Try’ being the operative word. Like usual, he works with YangYang and Yuta to sort out the choreography, but he also makes an effort to invite Hendery. He refuses to acknowledge the way Sicheng keeps smirking at him and the way that Hendery is seemingly shocked that Ten’s paying so much attention to him.

By the end of the practice, they have a full dance that should work with everyone else’s and that they can proudly show off to Eunhyuck the next time they come to the studio. Ten’s feeling a little better about the whole thing. So much so, that when they finally stop the music, he’s on the floor, covering his face and smiling. He doesn’t feel so behind anymore.

He’s so busy thinking about the choreography and how they can make it even better now that they have a solid base, that he almost misses the whispered, “Wow,” from behind him.

Peeling his hands away, he tilts his head backward and finds Hendery standing a few feet from his head, blinking at him.

“What?” Ten asks, sitting up finally. He’s sweaty and gross and he can’t wait to get home and shower.

Hendery shakes his head, almost as if he’s trying to clear it. “Nothing. I just…you look nice when you smile.”

It’s Ten’s turn to blink, his face heating. He spins away quickly, scrambling to his feet and walking as naturally as he can over to his bag. Sicheng’s there, hand in Yuta’s, and when he looks at Ten with eyes full of mirth and lips twisting into a smirk, Ten tells him to shut up.

Hendery doesn’t say anything else, but he does catch Ten’s eye and smiles softly at him. The five of them head out of the studio and stop in the hall because Yuta wants to chat with the other dancers that are heading home for the night. Ten waits since Yuta and Sicheng are his ride home. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone, so he spends his time searching around the hallway, looking wistfully at the exit. He just wants his shower.

“See you later, Ten,” YangYang says.

Ten nods. “Yeah. I’ll send you the video we made and we can—”

The curled figure on the bench by the door sends a shiver down Ten’s spine. As the boy’s head lifts, Ten whips around, hands trembling. No. It was going so well.

“Ten? You all right?” Hendery asks, brow furrowing. He reaches out, probably to put his hand on Ten’s arm, but he doesn’t. Instead, his hand hovers for a moment before lowering back down to his side.

Ten wants to run. He wants to get away, but a cold feeling along his side stops him, freezes him. He refuses to turn when another voice says, “You can see me.”

Closing his eyes, Ten shakes his head.

This time, Hendery does touch his arm. It’s light, almost feather-like, when his fingers brush the sleeve of Ten’s hoodie. “You’re looking pale. You okay?”

Sicheng seems to hear him because his attention immediately falls on Ten. He grabs Yuta’s arm, apologizes to the other dancers, and moves to stand directly in front of Ten. It’s not something he normally likes. Ten likes to have his bubble. But right now, he needs it and Sicheng knows it. He needs something human to grasp onto.

Hendery’s grip tightens and Ten exhales through his nose. He can feel the chill on his back and the warmth of Hendery’s hand. Hendery doesn’t even know he’s helping, but he is and Ten knows he should thank him, but Hendery wouldn’t understand and Ten doesn’t want to explain. He just wants to leave. He hopes his eyes portray that when he looks up at Sicheng.

“We’ll see you guys later,” Sicheng says, quickly.

Hendery doesn’t have a hold on him anymore. Sicheng throws an arm around Ten’s shoulders and ushers him towards the door.

“You can’t leave me,” the voice says, following them. “Please, you need to help me. I don’t know what’s going on. I just need you to help me.”

The boy’s voice cracks at the end and Ten halts. Sicheng watches him, waiting.

“It’s okay,” Ten whispers. “Sicheng, I’m going to stay.”

“Ten,” Sicheng starts, but Ten shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he repeats.

The arm slips from around him and Sicheng grabs the door, Yuta beside him looking equally as concerned. Ten hates that he’s made them worry. He doesn’t want people worrying about him.

“Call me when you need me to come get you,” Sicheng tells him.

Ten nods. He waits for Sicheng and Yuta to slip away before heading to the studio once again and closing the door behind him. He can feel the chill hovering behind him once again. He presses his back to the door and takes in the boy before him.

He’s young, probably younger than Ten, with shaggy black hair and sharp eyes. The hood of his hoodie is inside out and the knees of his jeans are covered in grass stains. Ten wonders if he was a university student. Not that it matters now because the boy is dead.

And it seems like he hasn’t come to terms with it. He’s biting at his nails, eyes flicking nervously about the room while his body fades in and out every so often. He’s a weak spirit, barely hanging onto the realm of the living. But the fact that he’s still here proves that he has something left to do.

“What do you need?” Ten asks.

“Help.”

“I got that,” he says. “What exactly do you need done? What’s your unfinished business?”

The boy tenses before curling in on himself. “My mom. I left a note under my bed just in case something happened to me and I need to make sure she gets it. Can you help me?”

In a way, Ten’s lucky he lives in a world where abilities are a regular occurrence. People were more likely to believe that he could communicate with the dead this way. That being said, there were still more than enough Negates that tried to scam people and Ten had his fair share of people screaming in his face and calling him a liar.

Which is why he shrugs off his bag and starts a letter to the boy’s mother. He’ll mail it when he gets home. Letters were much easier than actually dealing with a human. No one likes to know their loved ones are stuck in limbo, stuck trying to get to the other side.

He can still feel the boy’s presence when he leaves the studio, letter in his bag. The hallway is empty, except for one person. Hendery’s on the bench by the door and when he hears Ten, he immediately stands.

“Hey.”

“What are you still doing here?”

Hendery waves at the door, keys jingling in his hand. “I just figured you might want a ride home? I heard Sicheng tell you to call him, but I wasn’t in a rush, so I decided to wait. I hope that’s okay.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Ten finds the spirit of the boy barely visible. He’s watching Hendery with a raised brow and when he looks to Ten, Ten can’t help but duck his head. It’s not anything to be awkward about, but that doesn’t stop Ten from feeling uneasy as Hendery stares at him and the ghost boy observes the whole thing. He really should just call Sicheng. At least then Ten doesn’t need to explain anything.

“We don’t live that far from each other,” Hendery continues, filling in the hesitance silence Ten’s created. “It’s really not a problem for me. But if you want me to go, I can.”

“Take the ride,” the ghost says in his ear and Ten immediately hugs himself when his body turns cold. “Sorry.”

Ten shakes his head because it’s not really the boy’s fault that Ten’s body doesn’t react well to the feeling of death.

Except Hendery seems to think Ten is turning him down, so he hunches his shoulders and says, “Ah, okay. Um, I guess I’ll see you later then.”

“Wait,” Ten blurts. God, can he be any more awkward? “A ride would be…good. Thank you.”

“Oh,” Hendery says. Slowly, he smiles. “Great! I mean, good. Um, car’s this way then.”

Ten follows. They don’t say anything as they climb into Hendery’s black Kia. When the car starts, rumbling beneath them, Ten is sure it’s an anime opening that starts playing from the speakers. Hendery is quick to turn it off, shooting Ten a sheepish grin.

“I’m not going to judge your music tastes,” Ten tells him.

“Just didn’t seem like your style,” replies Hendery, softly. He slips on his seat belt and starts out of the parking lot.

Ten keeps quiet. He doesn’t really have a style. His music spans between classic to pop, from rock to dubstep. There have been many times he’s blasted ‘I’m a Barbie Girl’ from his speakers, so he really can’t say much.

It’s quiet and awkward and Ten isn’t sure what to say. Not that he wants to say anything in general. He just wants to go home, ditch the ghost, and shower. Then crash. Crashing sounds good right about now. From his peripheral, he can see Hendery’s jaw working, his mouth opening and closing just slightly like wants to say something.

“I see ghosts,” Ten says, shattering the silence and gaining Hendery’s attention. Wide eyes and all. “Watch the road.”

Hendery’s head snaps forward. “Sicheng might have mentioned that.”

Figures. Sicheng doesn’t always outright tell people Ten’s power, but he does allude to it. Especially when the person is bound to stick around for a bit. Ten isn’t going to mention it unless he needs to and Sicheng hates the idea of someone spotting Ten talking to a ghost—which looks more like he’s talking to himself—and having them think he’s crazy.

“Is that what happened in the hall?” Hendery inquires. “You looked really pale.”

Ten’s not surprised. It’s been weeks since he’s had to deal with a spirit and he had been lulled into a false sense of security. Yeah, he had been a little shocked and a lot upset, but he’s not going to tell Hendery that.

Instead, he says, “Yeah. He’s actually in your back seat.”

“Actually?”

The car swerves a bit when Hendery looks over his shoulder.

Ten, heart thudding, grips the handle and shoots Hendery a glare. “Fucking hell! Watch it!”

Hendery twists back. “Sorry! Sorry. I swear, I’m a much better driver than this. Promise. I just…he’s really there?”

“Yep.”

And he is. The ghost of the boy, faded around the edges, is in the middle of the back seat, watching Hendery with interest. There’s a smile curling on his lips as if he finds the whole thing hilarious.

“This is awkward,” the boy declares.

“Shut up.”

Hendery glances over. “Sorry?”

“No,” Ten grumbles as he turns in his seat. “Not you. Him. Can’t you just go away now? I have the letter.”

The boy shakes his head. “I think I need to be there when you send it. Feels like it anyway.”

“Well, fuck.” Throwing himself back into his seat, he glowers out the window.

“You okay?” Hendery asks and Ten’s somewhat surprised that he seems concerned. Although, perhaps he shouldn’t be. Over the last several weeks, Ten’s come to realize that Hendery has a weird ability to be very empathetic to other people. He cares a little too much, Ten thinks as he remembers the way Hendery looked near tears when Yuta fell and twisted his ankle during practice earlier in the week.

Ten has half a mind to ignore the question. He doesn’t like talking about his abilities just as much as he dislikes his abilities as a whole. The majority of his time is spent numbing out the chills, the annoyance, the painful headaches that sometimes come after. Ten’s discovered that after years and years of dealing with the dead, he’s become a bit desensitized from it emotionally.

Ten knows that’s not okay. He’s been told by multiple people it’s not. But it’s how he’s learned to deal with it for the most part and he’s not planning on changing it. It’s not like there’s anything else that can help. Sometimes, he wishes he had the ability to turn off his power, like Sicheng or Yuta, or even Hendery. He wishes there was a button or a trigger. Of course, he just so happened to win the non-stoppable ability lottery.

So, in the grand scheme of things, no, he’s not okay. He’ll never be okay as long as he keeps seeing dead people and that’s not about to go away any time soon.

The chill of the ghost behind him is light, but it sinks into his skin like water and Ten shifts, pressing a hand to his head because, yep, there’s that headache he’s been expecting. Not as terrible as usual, but it’s still there, throbbing behind his eye, roping to his inner ear.

“You going to answer him? The dude looks like he’s freaking out,” says the ghost from behind him and Ten groans.

“I’m fine,” he grunts.

Hendery creases his brows together, gaze flicking to Ten occasionally. “You sure?”

“Headache,” is all he says and sinks into the seat. It’s then he realizes that the seat warmer is on and he knows he didn’t do it. He studies Hendery out of the corner of his eye and wonders if Hendery had spotted him shivering. But the thought is cut short when the car pulls to a stop outside an ice cream shop. “I thought you were taking me home.”

“I am,” says Hendery as he unplugs his seatbelt and pulls out the keys, shutting the car off completely. “What flavor?”

“What?”

“Favorite flavor?” Hendery tries again, lips lifting into an easy smile. Ten somewhat wonders how he manages to do that all the time. Surely his face muscles hurt after grinning so much. Not that it’s a bad thing, the voice in the back of Ten’s mind says, Hendery looks good smiling. He shakes the thought away.

“Vanilla,” Ten replies, quietly. The ghost snorts and Ten spins on him. “You know what—”

A warm hand cups his face and he’s suddenly facing Hendery and his slightly crooked grin. “Ignore him. You sure you want vanilla?”

Ten’s not sure if it’s because it’s been forever since he’s been this close to a guy that’s not his friend or if it’s because Hendery is glowing so faintly Ten almost misses it or if it’s just the whole strangeness of the situation in general, but his words are caught in his currently dry throat and all he can do is nod.

Hendery drops his hand and leaves the car, telling Ten he’ll be right back. Ten sits in his seat, watching Hendery enter the ice scream shop, painful silence resting heavily on his eardrums. It shatters when the ghost behind him snickers into his hands and Ten wishes he could reach back and throttle him.

“I like him,” the ghost says through his laughter.

Ten wrinkles his nose. “That’s nice for you.”

“I think he likes you.”

His stomach churns. Sighing, he throws his head back against the seat with more force than is necessary—it doesn’t help his headache one bit—and thinks that perhaps his life is just a joke for whoever is watching. Sure feels like one.

Now, Ten’s not stupid. He’s always been a little smarter than he probably should be. Sharp, is what Johnny would say. He knows that he has Hendery’s attention, for whatever god forsaken reason. But Ten’s always gained attention. Usually because of his ability, or his ‘mysterious’ personality—also Johnny’s words. It pulls people in when all he wants is to push them away. No one ever gets the message that what Ten wants the most in life is to be simply left alone.

He’s also not blind. He knows Hendery is attractive. All of his friends are attractive, Ten notes, but not in a way he usually likes. Hendery’s just a bit different and maybe gained Ten’s attention, too, a little, and he hopes it’ll go away because he can’t handle this right now. Not with the way his life is.

In fact, he can’t handle it ever.

He decides, as Hendery comes back to the car with two large milkshakes, that he really needs to just ignore it and hope that the more he gets to know Hendery, the more he’ll see him as an acquaintance and nothing else.

The condensation on the cup is cold, but this is a kind of cold Ten can handle. It doesn’t come from within him like the ghosts cause. It’s settles through him, especially when he sips through the straw and has to hold back a moan at how good it is. Sweetness settles on his tongue and he closes his eyes.

He sees himself on a park bench with his mom, the sun beating down on them in all the best ways. He feels the breeze, hears their laughter, and, for a moment, Ten feels light.

“You look like you’re having an orgasm.”

Ten’s eyes snap open. The aftertaste is sour. He turns around in his chair and growls. It scrapes up from the back of his throat and Hendery tenses beside him while the ghost raises a brow.

“I can’t wait to get rid of your sorry ass,” he says, lowly. “Feel free to tell all your ghost friends on your way out to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Not your messenger.”

“I don’t have to help you.”

The boy tilts his head. “You do if you don’t want me to stick around forever. Trust me, I can make this really awkward no matter what. My friends tell me it’s a gift.”

“Told,” Ten corrects. “You’re dead, remember?”

There’s a slight sense of victory when the boy glances out the window, lips pilled tight. It doesn’t last long, however, because a hand’s wrapping around his elbow and Ten glances at Hendery, who’s watching, expression open yet not saying much at all compared to usual, and the guilt sinks in.

Without another word, he turns back around, puts the seatbelt in place, and drinks his milkshake. Hendery turns the car on and starts towards Ten’s apartment building. No one says anything else for the rest of the ride.

Hendery is pulling into a parking lot, shutting off the car, when Ten says, “Thanks. For the ride and the drink.”

The slight smile he gets is just as bright as the full ones, and Hendery replies, “You’re welcome. Any time.”

It’s when Ten’s closing the door to the passenger side when he notices that Hendery is doing the same from the other side of the car, grabbing his bag from the back.

“What are you doing?” Ten asks.

Hendery shoulders his bag. “I live here.”

“What?”

“Didn’t I say that?”

Ten shakes his head, mind trying to process the new information as his eyes flick from Hendery to the building and back again. “No. You said you lived near me. Not in the same building.”

For once, Hendery looks fully embarrassed, cheeks brightening. “Oh. I meant, like, I’m on the top floor and Sicheng said you guys were on the third. I live with Dejun. I should have maybe mentioned it?”

“Maybe,” Ten grumbles.

He marches to the building, Hendery jogging to catch up and the ghost boy on his heels. He stops at the mailbox, digs the letter out of his bag, and shoves it through the slit. It clinks loudly, echoing about the lobby.

“There,” he says with finality. He waves a hand at the ghost in a shooing motion. “Good bye, now.”

The ghost boy salutes mockingly. “Thank you, oh dark one.” He’s fading even more around the edges than he already was. “Hey, word of advice? Lighten up.”

Ten really wants to punch him. But the ghost boy is gone, leaving behind a faint headache and a wash of relief. He pinches his nose, squinting his eyes closed.

“Is he gone?”

It’s then that Ten remembers that Hendery is still there. He shoves his hands into his pockets and nods.

“Must be hard,” Hendery says, voice soft. It’s almost as if he’s trying to whisper and Ten’s not really sure why. “To deal with people and their past issues, I mean. It probably never gets any easier.”

“Doesn’t,” Ten agrees.

He sets his eyes on the mailbox because he’s not sure he can look at Hendery. He’s not sure he can look at anyone right now. Everything’s finally settling in, like the fact that Hendery just saw all that. All Ten knows is that he feels tired and wrong, like something’s twisted inside him and now it’s hanging off him for anyone to see, for Hendery to see.

When people find out about his power or experience it, it immediately sets him apart from everyone else. They get to see the ugly side of him that he often tries to hide because dealing with the dead isn’t fun. It’s painful, it’s irritating, it’s everything Ten hates. And it shows. It shows every fucking time. Sure, his sharp personality isn’t easy to take in either, but at least it can be played off or softened. But Ten can’t control himself around the dead. He can’t hold his tongue.

He turns ruder, brasher, angrier—just like in the car—and it’s embarrassing.

It’s not something he even likes ever-the-patient Sicheng to see when he can help it.

He needs a shower, his bed, and possibly copious amounts of the vodka he keeps under his bed out of Sicheng’s view.

“Hey,” Hendery’s voice is closer this time and Ten can’t help but flinch. Still, he doesn’t look. “If you…I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t live that far away if you need something. Though, I’m sure Sicheng and Yuta have you covered. But the offers open. If you need it.”

Ten nods. “Right, thanks. I’m going to be a while. You can leave.”

There’s a pause and Ten knows Hendery is hesitating, waiting for Ten to change his mind and take the elevator with him. Except he doesn’t. Hendery wishes him well and heads up to his apartment alone. When the doors to the elevator close, Ten drops himself against the mailboxes, head in his hands.

It takes a few moments for him to sort through everything that’s happened today. His brain flicks from the moment they finished their choreography to the moment the ghost finally left. He hates that Hendery saw that. He hates that he cares that Hendery saw that. It shouldn’t matter. But it does.

With tired legs he peels himself away from the mailbox and goes up to his own apartment. Sicheng’s on the couch when he enters.

“I told you to call me when you were done,” he says, moving his feet off the coffee table. There’s a pizza box and Ten hopes there’s still pizza in it. “And you got a milkshake?”

Ten stares at his hand and the cup he’s holding as if it just suddenly appeared. “Hendery was there when I came out of the studio. Got me a milkshake and drove me back. He lives on the top floor; did you know that?”

“Yeah, the penthouse. I thought you knew. He’s lived there for months,” Sicheng tells him. He leans back on the couch and pats the spot at his side. Ten drops beside him. “That was sweet of him.”

Ten hums and takes another sip of the milkshake. It’s still cold. Still really nice.

“It’s good to see you guys getting along,” Sicheng says, slowly. “Hendery really admires you.”

There’s some weird video playing on the television of vegetables dancing—no sound since Sicheng’s clearly muted it—and Ten stares at it, half because he doesn’t want to look at Sicheng and half because it’s kind of hypnotizing. The screen goes black. Ten has no choice but to look at his best friend now.

“Ten, what’s wrong?”

“Where’s Yuta?”

“Out with Taeyong and the others. Now, tell me what’s going on. Is it still the show? Is it the spirits? Is it…” he inhales through his nose, “Hendery?”

“What?” Ten frowns. “No. Hendery’s fine. Besides, we don’t have enough time to replace him even if I did have a problem.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Ten, come on, you and I both know it’s been a while and you know you can talk to me.”

Ten doesn’t want to talk, though. He really, really doesn’t. “I need to shower. Is there pizza?”

Nodding, Sicheng says, “Yeah, I got it for us. Figured we could hang out while Yuta’s away. I’ve even downloaded some of those romcoms you like. The English ones.”

“You don’t understand the English ones.”

“I know a bit,” Sicheng huffs. “Besides, I’ll suffer through it for you. Just know that I’ll be asking all the questions.”

“Fair enough.”

Ten gets up from the couch, leaving the milkshake behind because it’s not coming into the shower with him, and grabs his bag. He’s going down the hall when Sicheng calls his name.

“You’d tell me if you needed something, right?” Sicheng asks, gingerly. “I may not fully get it, but I’m here for you. Always am.”

“I know,” Ten says. “Chill out. I’m just tired. Be back soon. Don’t eat all the pizza.”

Once he’s in his room he stands there in the middle of it and exhales sharply, throwing his bag on the bed. These four walls have seen too much death and it’s starting to show. Everything is dim and dreary. It echoes Ten eerily well. He knows that no matter where he goes, no matter where he lives, it’ll always be there. They’ll always be there.

The shadows along the walls shift and Ten hugs himself. They lean into him, wrapping around the perimeter and chilling him to the bone, settling into his heart. The silhouettes watch him as he digs through his drawers to gather clean clothes.

Sometimes the ghosts aren’t whole. Sometimes, they’re empty shells of a soul, dark and mindless, because they have no where to go. They don’t get to complete their unfinished business, they don’t get to move on. And, in return, they find home with Ten, searching for something they don’t understand and will never understand because they don’t know. They know nothing. No thoughts, no hopes, no desires.

Ten thinks he relates a little more to them than he’s willing to admit and when he finally closes the door to his room, he feels them follow him, forever attached and never leaving.

Ten can’t escape death. He never will.

*

Ten knows he keeps screwing up. And he really doesn’t need everyone watching him do it.

For the past hour and a half, they whole dance crew—all twenty-one of them—have been trying to slot their pieces together in a way that feels coherent and smooth. It had started off fairly smoothly, but the farther along they get, the more mistakes Ten keeps making.

It’s like his legs and arms are against him, fighting his every move. He’s managed to miss the beat more times than he cares to admit, he’s stumbled back into Sicheng, and he just simply keeps forgetting what’s happening. His body doesn’t want to stay up anymore. He’s so tired that he feels like he’s on the verge of collapsing and he’s struggling to hold on by his fingertips to stop himself from doing just that.

His crew members are concerned. Sicheng’s eyes are on him through everything, fingers twitching as if he’s just waiting to rush forward and stop Ten from hitting the floor. Still, they do their job and Ten is the one that fails them.

The more mistakes that are made, the guiltier he feels. He’s supposed to be setting an example and he can’t even do that.

When his ankle gives out and he falls back against the mirrored wall, hair glued to his forehead and sweat dripping down his temples, Eunhyuck stops the music.

Soyeon is at his side with a water bottle, which he takes gratefully. Some of them are trying not to look and some just don’t seem to care. Ten wants them all to go away.

He slides down until he’s sitting and Sicheng squats next to him. “How much did you sleep last night?”

“I didn’t.”

A towel presses to his forehead. “You’re an idiot. I love you, but you’re an idiot.”

“Never said I wasn’t,” he grumbles, spotting Eunhyuck making his way through the dancers.

He settles on Ten’s other side. “What’s going on? You’re never like this.”

Taking the towel from Sicheng, he says, “I’m fine. I just need a moment.”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

“I just need a moment,” he snaps. Eunhyuck’s jaw tightens. “I’ll be fine. I’m just a bit tired, is all.”

Eunghyuck stands and puts his hands on his hips, turning to the crowd of people. “Let’s come back to this. Everyone, spread out and get some of your moves down. We’ll revisit on Monday.” He glances over his shoulder. “And, Ten, rest this weekend.”

“I said I’m fine—”

“And I said rest. Or I’m putting you on temporary leave from this studio. Understood?”

Ten glares at him, but says nothing because he knows fighting with Eunhyuck is pointless. Besides, maybe a rest isn’t so bad. His body is desperately craving for it. Tossing the towel off to the side, he takes Sicheng’s hands and stands.

“Don’t sweat it, Ten,” Hyunjae says as he passes, patting Ten on the shoulder. “We all have our days. Last week Hyunjoon and Youngjae collided during a jump and Juyeon kneed me in the groin.”

Everyone winces and Hyungjae waves his hand as if it’s not a big deal. It’s a big deal. Getting kneed hurts like a bitch. While Ten appreciates the sentiment, he can’t help but feel guilty for screwing up practice. That’s not him. He doesn’t do that. Ten is the one that’s supposed to be one of the strongest links, not the weakest.

He bends over, rubbing at his legs. His muscles keep twitching and it’s starting to get painful. It’s not that he can lie to himself. He’s stressed to the max and he hasn’t been sleeping and everything’s piling on him uncomfortably. He just wants to get through this competition and his finals. Then he can think about relaxing. Maybe.

When the room is cleared and Ten’s shaken himself out, he looks to Yuta to tell him to start the music, but Yuta’s nowhere near the speakers. He stands with Sicheng a few feet away, packing up his things.

“What are you doing?” Ten questions, his tone coming out a little harsher than he means it to.

Yuta stops moving and glances to Sicheng.

“We’re not practicing,” Sicheng tells him as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares Ten down, as if he’s challenging him to a fight. “You’re exhausted and you need to get this all off your mind for a bit. Practice is over for us.” Ten opens his mouth to retort, and YangYang does the same, but Sicheng tosses up his hands to stop them. “No. Practice is over.”

Ten huffs, turning his head away. Hendery’s been quiet the whole time, but he’s been packing up his things like Yuta and occasionally sneaking glances at Ten.

“Why don’t we do something else?” Hendery suggests. His voice is soft, almost a bit hesitant, and he won’t stop looking to Ten even though the question is clearly directed toward Sicheng. Ten focuses on his own bag.

“Like what?” asks YangYang.

Sicheng throws his duffle bag over his shoulder and takes Yuta’s hand in his. They gravitate towards each other. As if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Sometimes, Ten sort of envies them and what they have. It takes no thought to hold hands, to kiss each other, hug one another. They just do it, and Ten knows he’s never going to have that. Not when he can’t even dig himself out of his own mind.

“I really think we should just go home and take the night off,” Sicheng says. “Ten looks like he needs it.”

“Can you not talk about me as if I’m not here?” Ten grumbles, shooting Sicheng a look. “I’m fine.”

“You keep saying that and I keep not believing you.”

“What a faithful best friend you are.”

Sicheng narrows his eyes. “I’m the best best friend you’ve ever had and you know it.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell Johnny that.”

“All right, so if we aren’t going to practice and Ten refuses to rest, then I think we should do something like, Hendery said,” Yuta puts in. When Sicheng looks at him with a raised brow, he adds, “I know, hon, but look at him. Does it look like he’s going to go home and take a nap? No. So, what were you thinking, Hendery?”

All their attention lands on Hendery, who seems a little shocked and not sure what to do. He rubs at the nape of his neck and shrugs. “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far.”

“We could do dinner?” proposes YangYang. “Or karaoke. Oh! Wait, no, we should go bowling!”

Ten gapes, “Bowling?”

“Yeah, why not? I haven’t gone in ages and I bet you haven’t either.”

“Ten doesn’t know how to bowl,” Sicheng says. “I took him once and he let go of the ball too soon. Nearly hit an old man when it went backwards.”

It’s not a moment Ten likes to remember, nor does he like Sicheng telling, because, yep, that totally did happen and it was humiliating. Ten’s never liked bowling since. He likes to be good at things. Things he’s not good at are often long forgotten and never tested again.

“Isn’t that just more exercise?” Ten asks. “Sicheng didn’t want me practicing. You think he’ll let me bowl?”

“I’m not letting you practice because it’s stressful and you overwork yourself and never stop. I would prefer you go home and sleep, but if you aren’t going to do that then you’re going to come bowling with us and take your mind off the competition. I’ll even buy you a hotdog.”

Ten’s sold on the free food. “Fine. But I’m not taking any responsibility if any old men get hit with bowling balls.”

A soft chuckle comes from his side and Hendery appears, bag in hand. “I’ll take the blame.”

Then, he winks and starts out of the room with YangYang on his heels, saying they’d meet Sicheng, Yuta, and Ten at the bowling alley, and leaving Ten completely bewildered as to why his body tensed up and his heart just tried to take a leap out of his chest. God damn it, it’s just a wink. It’s not like he stripped.

Nope, no. Dangerous thoughts. Ten shakes his head.

Sicheng smirks at him. “Saw that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he brushes past Sicheng and Yuta and heads to the car.

Yuta owns a yellow Pacer. It’s the ugliest car Ten’s ever seen—besides a Hummer—and, yet, for some reason Yuta loves it. He refuses to let it go despite the chipped paint and the rust around the rims. Sicheng doesn’t say much about it, but Ten knows that, deep down, Sicheng dislikes the car just as much. He’s just too nice to say anything about it.

Ten’s not.

“I hate your car, Yuta,” he says as he climbs into the back. For all intents and purposes, at least it smells good. A citrusy scent clings to everything inside the vehicle.

“Yeah, well, Martin hates you, too.” Yuta clicks his seatbelt into place and rams the seat back just because he knows Ten’s sitting there. Ten hits his head rest with all his strength and shifts to the middle.

Sicheng presses two fingers to his temple. “Can you two please stop? And you,” he points at Ten, “need to tell me what the hell is going on. Don’t even try to lie to me. I know you’ve been hiding something. Now, talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say.” Ten crosses his arms, feeling defiance rising up inside him. It curls in his stomach. “Can you just accept that I’m fine and move on?”

“And see, yet again, I don’t believe you. You’ve been completely out of it recently. At first, I thought it was because Kun left and we had to take in Hendery, and you’ve never really liked change. But you’re pulling away and not talking to me. You messed up practice today more times than you have all year.”

Ten clenches his jaw. It’s hard because Sicheng’s right. He’s not fine. But it’s difficult to pinpoint the main issue and Ten’s not sure he wants to lay out everything that’s on his mind. He’s not even sure he knows everything that’s on his mind. Sometimes he just feels out of it for no particular reason.

Still, he knows Sicheng isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer anymore and Ten’s starting to feel a little too overwhelmed to hide much anymore, so he says, “They’re getting worse.”

Sicheng’s turned in his seat so he can really watch Ten, study his movements, his expressions. He’s quiet for a moment. “What do you mean?”

His arms tighten around himself. “The ghosts. It’s getting harder to deal with them. I’m getting angrier. I can feel it each time I see them. And the shadows keep coming closer. I don’t know how to keep them away.”

“Shadows?” Yuta inquires.

Looking out the window, Ten watches the people and the downtown shops pass. It’s a nice day out, but Ten can’t find it in himself to care anymore. “They’re leftovers,” he explains. “When a person is so bad or left so empty that there’s nothing to move on after they die, so a shell of the soul remains. They like me because I feel like death, like a beacon of it, I guess. At first, it wasn’t so bad. Except, now, I can’t seem to push them from me. They keep coming closer and closer and it feels like they’re melding with me, or something. It’s intense.”

“Are they always there?”

“No, but usually.”

Sicheng’s gone silent, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off Ten. It’s as if he’s looking for something. Ten’s not sure what, though. Then, he looks at Yuta. “Can powers grow, do you think?”

“I mean, it would make sense,” Yuta says with a nod. “People are constantly changing, evolving. It makes sense that their powers would do that, too. Not to mention that, on a surface level, our abilities are emotion based. Even if the power doesn’t directly come from you, it still takes an emotion to gain control. The more stressed or overwhelmed you are, the more out of control you and your powers can get. You grow as a person, learning new thing, new feelings, and your power does the same.”

“I guess.”

Yuta purses his lips. “I mean, think of Jungwoo’s cousin, Donghyuck. The kid has zero emotional control majority of the time and he’s paying the price. He’s got those suppressants now, but even still it’s incredible what happens when he isn’t emotionally stable. So, yeah, they could evolve or you could just be losing control because you’re so stressed.”

Ten’s not sure how he feels about that. His powers have always been a bit different, but to think that they might be growing to the point where he can’t control them, or even if it’s simply that he’s losing the control he had before, Ten’s not sure how to deal with that.

“Is that why you didn’t sleep last night?” Sicheng asks.

Nodding, he says, “They wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t ignore it.” He rubs at his thighs, itching to move. The car is vibrating beneath them as if it’s about to give way. God, he hates Yuta’s car. “I don’t know. There’s just been a lot happening.”

“You’re really pushing yourself and it’s not healthy. When you’re not in class, you’re at the studio. When you’re not at the studio, you’re either studying or working on the choreography. You’re human and you need a break once in a while.”

“Thanks for the lecture, mom.”

“Don’t sass me. You know I’m right.”

Yuta pulls into the bowling alley parking lot, parking right next to Hendery’s Kia. They don’t look to be in the car and are probably waiting inside.

“Look,” Yuta says as he stops the car, “we can’t control what you do. We can only tell you what we think will make your life better. I know the competition is really important to you, but Sicheng is right. You need to rest sometimes. If what’s drawing these shadows in is the fact that you’re stressing yourself out to the max, don’t you think that maybe you should relieve some of that stress.”

“What if that’s not it?”

Sicheng weighs his head to the side. “Don’t you at least want to try and see if it helps? Ten, your power isn’t going to stop itself. It’s always going to be there. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to figure out how to cope with it.”

“Think about Taeyong,” Yuta says. “He’s constantly living with people’s thoughts. It’s a pressure on him all the time and there have been times it consumes him. The only way to make it tolerable is to sort himself and his life out so that it’s not so overwhelming. The more relaxed he is, the more control he has. Just try it, okay?”

“Tonight, we aren’t going to talk about dance or think about it,” Sicheng says as he pops open the passenger side door. “You’re going to learn how to bowl and have fun.”

“Bowling,” he mutters, following Yuta and Sicheng toward the building. “Thrilling.”

Throwing an arm around Ten’s shoulder, Sicheng whispers, “And just think, this is a good time to check Hendery out when he bends over.”

“Pervert,” Ten snaps, shoving Sicheng’s laughing form away from him. He hates that his cheeks are heating without his consent. “I would never.”

“Mhmm, yep. As if you don’t do that when we’re in the studio.”

“I don’t!”

Sicheng raises a brow, a smug sort of smile on his lips. “You would be the only person in the world to check someone out and not know they’re doing it.”

Ten’s not able to respond because they make it to the front desk where Hendery’s already paying for the lane and YangYang is trying on his shoes. Hendery shoots him a smile and Ten finds the birthday party at the end of the alley very interesting. They have a cake in the shape of a unicorn.

There’s more to Ten’s hatred of bowling besides the fact that it’s one of the things he’s not good at. Bowling alley’s smell weird. It’s an odd combination of greasy fast food, polished wood, and feet. Not to mention that he has to wear shoes other people have worn. Sure, they probably clean them out, but how well? Ten doesn’t like sharing, even when it means playing a game.

It takes several minutes for Sicheng to convince Ten to trade out his shoes, and another few minutes to get that hotdog he was promised—plus fries because, despite being a pain in the ass sometimes, Sicheng’s a sweetheart and likes to spoil people. Once he’s seated at the lane in one of the many uncomfortable chairs they have throughout the alley, Ten digs into his food and doesn’t care if he looks like he’s inhaling it. He _is_ inhaling it. He’s hungry, so sue him.

“You don’t know how to play at all?” Hendery asks when he takes the spot across from Ten.

Ten glances up from his half-eaten hotdog. “I know you throw the ball at the pins.”

“Then why did you not do that when we played?” jokes Sicheng and Ten kicks him.

“How about I throw it at you—”

His voice halts when something brushes along the side of his mouth. He turns to find Hendery’s eyes set on his mouth, Hendery’s thumb swiping along Ten’s skin. Almost as if breaking out of a daze, Hendery’s hand flinches back and he straightens, gaze jumping to Ten’s eyes. Ten doesn’t want to think the sudden nausea is from the butterflies in his stomach. No, it’s probably the hotdog. 

“S-Sorry,” Hendery stutters. “Mustard.”

Then he does what Ten doesn’t expect and Hendery presses his mustard-covered thumb to his mouth and licks it off. Fuck. Ten can’t look away and Hendery’s not trying to either and it’s a whole lot in so little a movement. Ten’s pretty sure he can’t blame the hotdog for how his heart hammers against his chest. That’s…he’s not…Ten’s mind isn’t sure how to take that.

“Hey, Hen, you’re up,” YangYang calls, shattering the moment.

Hendery’s head twists toward the lane. “Yeah, coming.” And then he’s up from his seat and Ten’s left with his hotdog, not sure if he can take another bite.

“Well, that was something,” Sicheng comments.

Ten doesn’t have the strength to hit him. He simply shoves the rest of his hotdog in his mouth and uses that as an excuse to say nothing on the subject because even he’s not sure what just happened.

He’s finishing off his fries when someone slams a bowling ball on the table. Hendery grins down at him. “You’re turn.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Ten says. God, why were bowling alley fries so good? The ball nudges at his shoulder and his lip curls in distaste. “Take it away or I shove it up your ass.”

“Not really my kind of fun, but if it’ll get you out of your seat, I’ll take one for the team,” says Hendery. He picks up the ball and wiggles it. “Come on. Just granny shot it and you’ll be fine.”

Ten wipes his hands on the napkin. “Why don’t you just throw it for me?”

“Because I’d rather you try than me cheat. Besides, you’re supposed to be having fun. Relaxing.” Hendery bends down to Ten’s height and grins. “Please?”

Ten hates how he can’t say no to people. He thinks it might be because if he gives in, it makes people go away faster. Sicheng likes to tell him it’s because he’s actually a good person even though he likes to pretend otherwise. Ten thinks he’s full of shit.

Even still, he stands up, eyes still on Hendery and his stupid smile, and snatches the bowling ball. It’s a lot heavier than he’s prepared for and he nearly drops it, but he keeps face and skirts around Hendery to head to the lane.

Judging by the scores, Hendery is winning with Sicheng right behind, followed by YangYang and then Yuta. All of them have done well for the first round and Ten’s willing to bet he’ll lose with no points. If it was possible to go into the negatives he’d be there.

“It’s just for fun,” Sicheng reminds him and Ten wrinkles his nose.

Ten doesn’t even try. He haphazardly tosses the ball. It hits the lane with a thump, rolling a few feet and then curving into the gutter where it takes off to the other end and disappears completely. Turning, he finds Hendery there with another ball in his hands.

“Want some help?” he asks.

Ten takes the ball. “I’m fine.”

This one ends in the gutter, too, and Ten doesn’t care. Not that much. He finds himself sitting on the end of the bench with Hendery, YangYang and Sicheng right across from him. They cheer when Yuta gets a spare. Yuta swaps places with Hendery.

It’s irritating how good he is. Sicheng’s great, but Hendery seems to hit strikes more often than not and, _yes_ , Ten is bitter. Hendery has to have a flaw somewhere. When the ball hits all the pins on his last throw, Hendery turns and he’s glowing, a complete high-beam beacon with a smile to rival the light. Ten can’t look away.

Hendery drops in the spot beside him, still bright as ever. It’s soft, clinging to every part of him, leaking through his pores. His eyes sparkle, his hair lightening a shade, and overall appearing ethereal in all the ways an angel could. Ten wants to smack himself for thinking such flowery thoughts.

He knows he’s the one staring this time, so openly and unabashed. He gets a raised brow in response and Ten tilts his head, frowning. It doesn’t seem like anything throws Hendery off. Everything he does is with complete and total nonchalance. Hendery’s almost always smiling, always listening, always proving himself as someone who’s determined and loyal. Ten’s really thinking that he might not be real. Surely something has to upset him, throw him off. Anything.

“You’re glowing,” Ten points out, flatly.

Hendery glances at his hands. They’re shining with white light. “Yeah, I do that when I’m comfortable. Or happy. Or just feeling strong emotions in general. Even negative ones.”

“Do you know how to control it?”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want to. I like glowing. Gains attention from handsome boys.”

Ten definitely does _not_ blush. He doesn’t. Instead, he watches YangYang get a gutter ball, swearing loudly in German. The next ball hits only seven pins, but YangYang is pointing at Yuta and sticking out his tongue. Ten feels like he’s missed something.

“Are you feeling better?” Hendery asks, making Ten tear his attention from Sicheng. “We were all worried.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“You say that a lot.”

“I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

Leaning back on the seat, Hendery eyes him. “I don’t necessarily think that’s true.”

“And I don’t think it’s any of your business.”

“You’re right,” Hendery agrees with a nod. “It’s not. Still, I like to think we’re pretty friendly and I have this weird habit of worrying about my friends and sticking my nose into things when I think they’re hurting.” Ten’s not sure what to say to that. “You’re turn, Ten. I think you’ll hit a strike.”

He stands. “Didn’t people tell you it’s dangerous to dream big? Leaves room for more disappointment.”

“But when the dream comes true, you’re in for a lot of happiness,” Hendery counters.

Narrowing his eyes, Ten inquires, “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Possibly. Now, go get that strike.”

Ten doesn’t get a strike, but he does hit one pin on the outside and it’s definitely an improvement. Regardless, he goes back to his seat sulking because he’s never going to get bowling as a skill and he’s not sure why he’s even trying.

“You sure you don’t want me to show you how to do it?” Hendery whispers to him and Ten tries to ignore the way Hendery’s arm brushes against his and how his voice makes a shiver go down Ten’s spine. Unlike what he thought, the glow around Hendery doesn’t give off any heat at all. Purely for decoration then. 

Ten raises his chin. “I don’t need you to show me anything. I’m perfectly capable on my own.”

Perfectly capable of failing, he notes. But he’s not about to let Hendery teach him anything. Ten knows what he’s good at. He sticks to those and everything else is useless. He doesn’t need someone to belittle him, pity him. If he wants to be good, he’ll learn on his own.

Hendery raises his hands in mock surrender and gets up for his own turn. Sicheng slips into his seat and Ten sighs because he knows what Sicheng’s thinking the moment he spots the smirk and Ten really doesn’t want to deal with it. Nothing is going on. Nothing Sicheng’s thinking is true.

“You say a word and I blast symphonic metal at five in the morning for the next week outside your bedroom door,” Ten threatens. “I’m getting a drink.”

It’s amazing how long it takes for someone to get water. It’s not like he asked for anything that takes a lot of brain capacity to retrieve. Part of him wants to ask for more fries, too, but he’s worried that’ll take even longer and he’s also on a dancer’s diet currently. That tends the suck the fun out of things.

“Can I get a fanta?”

Ten groans, a little louder than he expects, at the voice. “Did you have to follow me?”

“I’m not following,” Hendery says, perching his elbow on the counter and resting his chin in his hand. “I was thirsty.”

Sure. That’s the excuse.

Leaning away from the counter, Ten says, “Am I sending out some sort of signal I wasn’t aware of that makes you think I want you around all the time?”

“Well, seeing as you said you didn’t hate me,” Hendery starts, slowly, “I figured I could at least talk to you like the rest of the crew. Be friends, maybe, if that’s not pushing it.”

“Friends,” Ten mutters with a shake of his head. The worker comes over with his water. Finally. “I have friends, thank you.”

“No harm in having one more, though, is it?” Hendery inquires, a hopeful tone to his voice.

“Why would you even want to be friends with me? I’m not exactly sunshine and rainbows.”

Hendery shrugs. He gets his fanta way too fast and Ten shoots the worker a glare when she turns away. “You’re cool. Talented. You’re very quick-witted and sometimes pretty funny. I don’t know. I guess I just feel like you’d make a good friend.”

“Then you’re delusional. You should ask Sicheng. I’m a shitty friend.”

“Doubtful. You care more than you let on. Otherwise, you wouldn’t help people out.” Hendery goes to sip his drink and Ten absolutely doesn’t follow the way Hendery’s tongue guides the straw into his mouth. “You wouldn’t help those ghosts out if you didn’t care.”

“It’s to make them go away. I don’t have much choice. They’re a pain in the ass.”

“Maybe, but you still help them. I think they’d probably give up if they weren’t getting any help at all. But you do it. You write their letters and do their unfinished business and you send them off. You also seem to keep a lot of your struggles to yourself because you don’t want Sicheng or Yuta to worry. You’re a good person, Ten. You just don’t want to be. Anyway,” Hendery turns away, “I think it’s our turn. Come on. Time for you to hit two pins this time.”

Ten doesn’t do so well for the remainder of the game and, in fact, comes dead last. Bowling, Ten decides, is something he never wants to do ever again. Especially when every time Yuta looks at him, he starts chuckling. Ten throws his bowling shoes at him.

Despite all that—and even though he would never admit it out loud—it had been a good way to get his mind off dancing for a bit. After the first round and into the second, Ten hadn’t really thought about the choreography at all. He had spent more of his time snapping at Yuta’s taunts, shaking off Sicheng’s smirks, and rolling his eyes at the way Hendery kept watching him and telling him he was doing well. Doing well, his ass. He had only hit two pins at most in one throw.

By the end of it all, perhaps Ten does feel a bit more relaxed than before. His arms fell like jelly, but his shoulders aren’t as tense.

Sicheng, Yuta, and Ten drive back to the apartment and, once inside, Ten finds his bed very welcoming. He doesn’t bother to shower, doesn’t bother to say good night. He simply flops atop the covers and closes his eyes. Because, for once, sleep is very easy to come by and he isn’t about to pass that up.

*

Saturday goes by a lot faster than Ten expects and it’s not good. With everything going on and with finals around the corner, Ten’s drowning in school work. Essays, assignments, presentations, and exams. Ten can barely keep up with it all and he knows he’s dangerously close to slipping below the marks he deems appropriate. The semester is almost over. One more week and they’ll be on break. He just needs to make it to the end and then he can focus solely the competition.

Sicheng and Yuta left earlier for a date. Ten barely pays them any mind, even when Sicheng keeps asking if he’ll be okay. He even offers to stay in and order them all take-out, but Yuta—never one to give up a date—drags him away with a wave.

That’s fine, though. It gives Ten the apartment to himself for a few hours. The quiet is nice and it helps him focus for the most part. Still, the pile of work on the end of his desk isn’t looking any smaller by the time the sun goes down.

Eyes stinging, Ten lays his head on the desk and sighs. It’s going to take forever to go through everything and he doubts he’ll finish by the time Monday rolls around. It’s too bad he doesn’t have much of a choice if he wants to pass.

His eyes close just as his cell phone decides to buzz along the desk noisily. Ten picks it up, frowning as he takes in the caller. His finger hovers over the button before answering the call.

“Hello,” he says, blandly, feeling suddenly even more exhausted than he was before.

“Hey, kiddo, how are you?” His father’s voice is a little rough around the edges, but overall bright and Ten knows what’s coming. He knows what follows this tone. Every time. “It’s been ages since we talked. Your aunt calls me more than you do and she doesn’t even like me.”

“She’d like you more if you stopped trying to get her into pyramid schemes each time you have a conversation,” Ten tells him as he leans back in his seat. “Dad, now’s not really a good time. I have a lot to do.”

He can almost feel the way his father rolls his eyes. “Come on. You can make time for your dad.”

“I…” He presses a hand to his forehead. “Fine. How are you, dad? Doing well?”

“Just peachy, son, thanks for asking. I mowed the lawn today and I think our neighbor watched me the whole time. She’s a nosy one.”

“You enjoy the attention.”

“This is true. And how are you, kiddo? Never answered me.”

Ten eyes the pile of homework. “I’m busy. Swamped. Have a lot due this week since finals are coming up.”

“I’m sure you’ll do well. You always do,” his dad says. “You always were an overachiever, bound to prove anyone a point even if they didn’t want it.” There’s a pause. “And how are…things?”

He tenses, gaze locked on the wall before him. It always happens when his father calls. There’s no getting out of it, no dodging it. It’s inevitable, in the end. Still, Ten likes to trick himself into thinking that maybe, for once, his dad won’t ask.

“Dad,” he starts.

“You know, Mr. Park called on the house the other day, said he thought that his mother might be around. I was thinking that maybe the next time you’re home you could go check it out and—”

“I don’t do that. You know that,” Ten says, tightly. “We talked about this.”

“I’m not asking you to help. Just to go see and talk to him.”

Ten frowns. “And how much money did he offer you to get me to do that?”

“Ten—”

“No, Dad. I’ve said this more than enough times and I really don’t want to say it again: stop trying to sell my ability. I don’t want to get paid for it. I don’t even want to do it for free.”

The line is quiet. Ten knows his father isn’t happy. He never is after Ten tells him off, but Ten’s sick and tired of going through this conversation every time they talk. Ten tries to have a normal chat—when he actually gives in—and his father tries to get Ten to be a travelling medium for anyone willing to pay a pretty penny. They fight, don’t talk for a few months, and then his father calls and starts it all over again.

“Look, I have a lot to do. I’m glad you’re doing well. Stay safe, okay? Talk to you later.”

“No, come on, Ten. Don’t hang up on me. I’m just trying to make something out of your powers. You have so much potential.”

“I have so much potential in a lot of things, including what I’m learning right now in school. I’d rather make money from performing on stage than through speaking with the dead.”

“Why have the power if you aren’t going to use it?”

Ten grits his teeth. “I _do_ use it. I can’t _not_ use it. Dad, I really need to go. Bye, okay?”

When he finally manages to hang up, his dad’s still trying to talk him into selling himself. Or, well, his powers. Sighing, he droops in his chair, gripping his hair. It’s always draining after talking with his father and, unfortunately, now he’s lost all motivation. And if he can’t do his homework, he’s going to do the one thing that generally helps him out, the thing that takes his mind off everything.

Standing up, he locates his bag and heads for the door. He doesn’t bother leaving a note because he knows he can’t be out long anyway. He’s going to have to be up early in the morning and staying up is only going to make that difficult.

He opts out of the elevator for the stairs, and nearly a floor down, he spots Kun. Headphones are nestled into his ears, his hair fluffy and wild from the wind. He’s not watching where he’s going as he ascends the steps since he’s digging into his bag, probably for his keys, and almost runs right into Ten.

Ten catches him by the shoulders before they can collide. “Watch it.”

The smile he gets is sweet, fond, and so very Kun. “Hey, Ten. Wow, it’s been a while.”

“Haven’t seen you since you visited me to drop out of the crew,” Ten states.

It doesn’t matter how harsh Ten’s words could be taken, Kun’s known him for long enough to take it all with a grain of salt. He’s too nice, Ten thinks. Too innocent. Even after all these years, he hasn’t changed a bit.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve been a bit MIA, huh?” Kun’s grin turns guilty. “Schools been kicking my butt. I practically live at the library.”

“So, not any different than before?” Ten asks. “You should rest more. Wasn’t that the point of dropping out of the competition.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Kun chuckles under his breath. “You know, I heard Hendery is going just as good, if not better, than me. I wouldn’t be complaining.”

“Hendery isn’t you. You and I’ve been planning these competitions since we could enter them.”

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

Clicking his tongue, Ten plops himself on the stairs. After a moment, Kun does the same, right beside him. “I miss the way things were.” He spreads his hands, fingers splayed. “I feel like everything’s slipping through my fingers. I’m just so tired all the time.”

“You’re stressing yourself out,” Kun says. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do. I never could. And I know you won’t cut anything out of your schedule, and you won’t stop going at things with a hundred percent of your energy, but, at some point, you’re going to have to learn how to release some tension and take life a little slower.”

“I don’t have time to slow down.”

“Does anyone?” Kun shakes out his hair, trying to tame it from its fluffy nest. It doesn’t work. “One thing at a time, Ten. You and I both know that.” He rubs his eyes and yawns. “Maybe I should take my own advice.”

The corners of Ten’s lips twitch. “Maybe.”

“Hey,” Kun nudges Ten’s arm, “everything will be okay. From what I hear, Hendery will fair just fine at the competition. So, that’s not what’s stressing you out, is it?”

“A bit,” Ten says. “It was worse before. Before we had a dance and we had a new guy to fit in. It’s better now. Hendery is good. He’s really good. He fits in really well and everyone loves him. But he’s annoying. Always too friendly.”

For a moment, Kun watches Ten with his lips pursed. Then he gives a solid nod. “Ah, I see. You like him.”

Ten’s eyes snap to Kun. “I don’t.”

“Maybe you aren’t in love with him, but you’re clearly drawn to him in some way. I can tell.” Kun smiles. “It’s okay, Ten. You’re allowed to.”

“I don’t have time,” Ten mutters. “With the competition, finals, and…”

“And?”

Ten shifts on the step. “I hate my powers. I hate them so much. I wish I was a Negate.”

“Hey, now.” Kun throws an arm over Ten’s shoulders. “Your ability is rare, and insanely amazing. It may not seem like it, but you should be lucky you can do what you do. Negates aren’t treated with the kindest regard and you know how much they wish they could be like us. Don’t take that for granted.”

Ten knows he’s right. Kun’s always right. There’s approximately ten percent of the world that are Negates and they’re never looked at right. More often than not, they’re viewed as useless, wastes of space. Ten doesn’t really believe that, but others do. Ten’s seen how people without powers are treated. So, yeah, Kun’s right. Ten shouldn’t wish for that.

But a small part of him does because, _fuck_ , he’s so tired of dealing with ghosts and death. He’s tired of being followed by shadows, drowned in helplessness and neediness. He’s tired of helping people that aren’t actually people anymore just so that they can get peace of mind while taking his away.

“You were heading to the studio,” Kun says, softly. Ten nods. “You should do that. I know it helps take your mind off things. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ten mutters. “You need sleep.”

“So do you, but, clearly, you aren’t going to do that any time soon.”

Together, they stand up. Ten tosses his bag over his shoulder. “Good luck on your finals. Don’t be a stranger.”

“Couldn’t with us living in the same building,” Kun laughs.

“Well, seeing as it’s been almost two months since I last saw you, I would say that you could.”

Kun sends him off with a sleepy smile.

Ten doesn’t own a car, so he walks to the studio. It’s about a twenty-minute walk, the sky dark and the air warm. A couple years ago, Eunhyuck had given Ten a key when he realized that if Ten didn’t have one, he would break in. Ten wasn’t that much of a delinquent, but he’s not going to say the thought didn’t cross his mind once or twice when he was desperate for space to dance.

He flicks on the lights as soon as he gets there and closes himself into the dance studio. The place is eerily quiet. It settles uncomfortably on his eardrums as he puts his things down and goes to plug his phone in. Softly, his music starts floating through the speakers.

Ten moves to the center of the room, drifting along with the beat. It’s not long before his body is doing what it does best: dancing. It’s been ages since he’s simply danced for fun, freeform and without any rules or plans.

It’s challenging, but he tries not to think about his father, about the competition, about the ghosts he’ll surely run into sooner rather than later, and definitely not about Hendery.

Hendery.

Steps stuttering, Ten curses himself. Handsome or not, despite what Sicheng likes to say and what Kun had purposed, Ten is sure he doesn’t like Hendery like that. He can’t. They’ve barely spoken, and when they have it hasn’t been particularly noteworthy. It doesn’t matter if Hendery is patient with Ten’s snappish attitude. It doesn’t matter that he’s dedicated and hardworking. It definitely doesn’t matter that when he glows he’s so bright he could rival the sun and stuns Ten into wordlessness.

“Fuck,” he says as he misses a step and has to twist himself to stay upright, Hendery’s smile on his mind. “Pull yourself together, Ten. You don’t have time for this shit.”

And he doesn’t. Besides, even if he did have the time, he still wouldn’t go for Hendery. Or any other boy. Ten knows what it’s like to deal with death over and over again, day in and day out. He knows the stress it puts on his friends when they see what he has to deal with—when he’s so low and sluggish that they pity him and feel the need to share the burden. Ten doesn’t want that from anyone at all, let alone people he cares about. Why would he put that on a partner? On a boyfriend? He didn’t want Sicheng, Yuta, or even Johnny to go through that and they were just his friends.

Life without someone is lonely, but Ten doesn’t have a choice in the matter. Not unless he wants to drag someone to the depth of darkness with him, and he certainly can’t do that to Hendery, who’s all light and happiness. He deserves better than that.

The music swells and Ten follows it. His body twists and shifts and Ten lets it go, lets it flow the way it wants to. After a while, he’s not in control. The music is. It sinks into every pore, pulls his limbs like strings on a puppet. It draws out every part of Ten he keeps so carefully in line. Every turn, every step, is careful and light. Every hit is thrilling, setting his heart alit.

The rhythm picks up and Ten can’t stop his feet from carrying him through every beat at lightning speed, hands and arms shifting fluently. It’s amazing how desperate his body moves, wanting to let go more and more until he’s not even sure he can stop.

It’s numbing, painful, terrifying, and oh so freeing. He can feel his heart thudding in his ears, blood roaring. His eyes sting and he wants nothing more to keep going. To dance forever. But he can’t.

His legs give out and he lands on his knees, fists pounding the floor and breath shaky. His skin feels hot and cold and everything around him is still. Frighteningly still. He can feel the world shift around him, the bright room holding secrets of the shadows that follow him. Slowly, he sits up and leans back on his calves. He runs his fingers through his hair, catching himself in the mirror. He’s pale, tired-looking, his black hair a mess. Ten doesn’t think he’s ever appeared so—he stops moving—dead.

Sighing, he moves to his bag and sits down, staring at himself. His dark eyes reflect back at him. He’s starting to look like the ghosts he helps and it hurts. It hurts so badly because that’s exactly how his mom looked before she died. Lifeless and empty.

Pulling his legs to his chest, he lays his head down on his knees, trying to slow his panting. Squeezing his eyes shut, he focuses in on how his body hums as it comes to realize he’s not moving anymore. It’s lulling and Ten falls asleep with mind spinning and his body thrilled to finally shut down.

*

“Ten? Ten, wake up.”

Something shakes his shoulder and Ten moans, digging his head farther into his arms to hide from the light. His eyes are heavy with sleep, wanting to keep closed. But he hears someone shift beside him and, slowly, his brain registers the voice.

“Seriously,” a sigh, “wake up, Ten.”

With great effort, he rolls over onto his back—somehow, he managed to fall over in his sleep—and blinks up at Hendery. His hair is dripping with water, small dark circles hanging below his eyes, and when he realizes Ten is looking at him, he smiles through the tiredness.

Ten squints, hand feeling around for his phone. Hendery seems to get what he’s looking for because Ten finds his phone pressed into his palm. He clicks the screen on. The light is painful. It’s just after eight in the morning.

“W-what are you doing here?” Ten asks, his voice a little rough from his sleep. For some reason, he seems to have slept rather well on the hard floor of the studio rather than his own bed for years. “How did you get in here?”

Hendery drops back from his squat so he can cross his legs,and shakes his head. “Sicheng was worried. We all were. He called me this morning after he got home super late and you weren’t in your room. No note, and you weren’t answering your phone. He’s running around town and gave me the key to the studio so I could help search. I gave up a very nice hot shower for you.”

Sitting up, Ten shakes out his hair and looks around. So much for staying only a little while. Apparently, he had been a lot more tired than he thought. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Probably not,” Hendery agrees. “But I wanted to. Like I said, we were worried.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. I just came here to practice.”

Hendery watches him for a moment before shifting once again to lean up against the wall, next to Ten. He passes a water bottle over. Ten has his own, but it’s warm now and Hendery’s has ice in it, so Ten takes it with a small ‘thank you’.

“So, um,” Hendery starts, “’I’m a Barbie Girl,’ huh?” Ten tilts his head and Hendery grins. “Your phone was still playing your music when I arrived.”

Ah.

“I’ll never be scared to play my music around you again,” Hendery jokes, but his smile faulters a bit.

“Did you just get here, then?” Ten asks.

Hendery nods. “Yeah. Thought you had collapsed or something. That was terrifying.”

“Well, I’m fine, so you can take some peace of mind. I just fell asleep, is all. I should message Sicheng.”

“Good idea.”

The message is short and to the point, and the responses he gets back are full of capital letters and swear words and Ten sort of feels bad because he knows how worried Sicheng can get. He probably should have left a note.

It shocks him, however, that Hendery had agreed to help find him. He eyes Hendery out of the corner of his eye. He’s trying to shake the droplets from his hair and keeping it from sticking to his skin. A piece of hair sticks up from the rest. Ten can’t stop himself from reaching over and fixing it, brushing Hendery’s fringe into something that looks somewhat decent. When he pulls his hands away, Hendery’s wide eyed, his hands hovering just slightly like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Ten wonders if it’s the lighting or if the apples of Hendery’s cheeks are really pinkening.

Ten leans back and clears his throat. “Thanks for coming to find me.”

Eyes still unnaturally round, Hendery gives him a tiny bob of the head. “Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

They sit in silence for a little while, giving Ten a bit of time to finally wake up. He checks his phone and realizes that ten minutes have passed. He really should get home to his work.

Just as he’s about to grab his bag, when Hendery speaks up. “I know it’s not my place,” he says, “but are you sure you’re okay?”

Ten’s fingers are wrapped around his bag’s strap. He could so easily grab it and leave, brushing off the question. But Ten’s still so tired and he’s not really thinking straight, so he says, “No. No, I’m not.”

There’s a beat as Hendery stares forward, into the mirror at their refections. He licks his lips before inhaling sharply and turning to look at Ten head-on. Ten’s not sure he’s ever seen him so serious, brow set and no smile to be seen.

“It’s your powers, isn’t’ it?”

“Yeah.”

Hendery nods, yet again. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Silence settles around them and Ten finds himself relaxed about it. The one thing he finds he likes about Hendery, is that he doesn’t ask too many questions. He takes things with the patience that Sicheng possesses—even more so, maybe—and he never pushes. Ten’s not sure why, but it makes him want to tell Hendery everything. Even if that’s the stupidest idea he’s ever had.

Hendery doesn’t deserve that burden, Ten’s burdens. He deserves to glow and Ten doesn’t want to taint that.

“I meant what I said,” Hendery whispers. “I’m here if you want to talk. No pressure.”

It’s ridiculous and Ten’s not sure why, but the backs of his eyes are stinging. It takes all his willpower to keep his composure. It’s like his body can’t control itself anymore. Like it’s so exhausted it just wants to scream, to cry, to laugh hysterically. Ten keeps it in check with all his strength.

Still, he finds himself opening his mouth. “I’ve always been able to sense the dead.”

Hendery doesn’t say anything as he stares at his hands, waiting for Ten to continue.

“Ever since I could remember,” Ten says, carefully. “I knew when someone was there. From the old man in my closet, to the little girl at the local playground. I couldn’t hear them, or see them, but I could feel them. Every part of them. They would sometimes play memories to me. The worst ones were always the ones of their deaths.”

He exhales shakily, his breath hitching when he feels cold fingers wrap around his own. Hendery holds his hand, gaze locked on the floor. It’s loose. Loose enough for Ten to pull away if he wants to. He doesn’t.

“My mom could communicate with the dead,” he says. “Raise them, too. It wasn’t for long. She could only give them about an hour to say goodbye and then her powers would give out. My dad wanted to make money from it and she never wanted to, and when I started showing signs, he used to sneak me out of the house and meet clients, people who had lost loved ones. I would go in and tell them what I could. I didn’t know any better.”

Ten tightens his grip on Hendery. “I don’t know what you know about death abilities, but they aren’t like normal abilities. You’ll continue to glow your whole life with no side effects. Death abilities take life. They drain power from the user. My mom wanted to help people so much that she never stopped. I watched as her life force was drained away, until her powers became her reality. I was only fourteen. When she died, I got my powers. My dad wanted to keep using me, but I had seen what happened and I just couldn’t do it. I was too scared to. But I saw death at every turn and, at first, it wasn’t awful, but it’s getting worse and I can feel what it’s doing to me.”

He raises his free hand and stares at it. He can’t keep it from trembling. “My powers are out of control and I don’t know if that means they’re growing or if I’m just causing it unintentionally, but my powers terrify me. They _should_ terrify me. They should terrify everyone.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Hendery tells him, voice barely above a whisper. Ten’s fingers move so they’re slotted between Hendery’s. It’s more comfortable that way. “I can’t imagine how hard that would be. You’re brave, you know that? I couldn’t do what you do.”

“Brave,” Ten snorts. “More like I just have no choice. It’s not like I can stop seeing the dead.”

“But isn’t that what makes you brave? The fact that you live with this every day and you never give up,” Hendery says. “You literally face death every day.”

“Everyone dies in the end,” Ten mutters. His dad used to tell him that when Ten woke up screaming from nightmares, from memories of the ghosts’ deaths replaying over and over in his head. Ten knows his father meant it as a way to make the whole thing easier to take in, to make death seem like it’s just a natural progression, nothing to be scared of. Except he never knew. He had never faced a ghost eye to eye, felt their presence and pushed through the cold chills that come with it.

“Yeah,” Hendery agrees. Then he tilts his head back against the wall and the corner of his lips lifts just slightly. “But we live in the middle. And that’s what you’re doing. That takes true bravery in my eyes.”

Ten studies the way his fingers link with Hendery’s. It feels a bit surreal. He wonders when he last held someone’s hand. He can’t remember. The tips of Hendery’s fingers are still cold, but his palm is warm and Ten finds a strange comfort from the feeling.

“Thank you,” he manages, throat tight. “I’m sorry.”

Frowning, Hendery’s eyes flick about Ten’s face. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because you had to listen to me,” Ten says. “Not exactly a happy story either. I’m not a very happy person, I guess.”

“That’s okay.” Hendery nudges their shoulders together, a smile playing on his lips. “I can be happy for the both of us, huh? Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking you need to get out of here and I need a milkshake, so care to join me?”

“I have to get out of here?” Ten questions as Hendery gets up and pulls Ten to his feet, not letting go of his hand the whole way. “Why’s that?”

“Mostly because I need a milkshake buddy,” Hendery explains. “But also because I promised to bring you back home as soon as I found you and, I’m not going to lie, Sicheng kind of frightens me.”

“Sicheng does? And not me?”

Hendery coughs a laugh. “Oh, you frighten me, too. Just not in the same way. So, milkshake?”

“You buying?”

“I guess I could if I have to.”

Ten gets his milkshake, and it isn’t until Hendery is dropping him off at his apartment door that he realizes that they never let go of each other’s hand the whole time. His fingers are tingling even long after Sicheng’s lecture.

*

Much like Kun, Johnny’s been pretty absent lately. Sure, he sends messages to check in and the occasional animal video he simply _must_ share right then and there, but otherwise he’s quiet. Ten knows it’s because his finals are ridiculously chaotic, especially nearing the end of his degree—much like Ten’s—and usually that means that they go a couple months of never seeing each other’s faces until it’s all over and they can finally breath.

Even though they live in the same building and a floor apart. And, honestly, Ten thinks that’s kind of pathetic.

Now, all Ten’s finals are done and over with and he’s pretty sure Johnny’s are, as well, so he does what a good friend should do—and it has nothing to do with the fact that Sicheng urged him to—and is knocking on Johnny’s door, hoping he’s home.

Johnny’s usually the one that visits, usually the one that drags Ten out of his room and into the real world. Ten feels odd standing on the other side of the door, hearing all the voices and heavy footfalls, waiting to be let in.

The door swings open and Johnny is beaming before it can open the whole way. Ten had tried to prepare himself. He really did. But, well, no one can prepare themselves completely for Johnny Suh.

Ten’s swept up in a bear hug. Johnny’s strong. Super strong. And he often doesn’t remember it. There have been more than enough times where Johnny’s simply forgotten his strength and Ten’s ended up squished a little more than he would like.

“Johnny,” Ten croaks. “Let me go, you oaf.”

His feet hit the ground.

“Sorry, sorry,” Johnny laughs as he slaps Ten on the shoulder and sends him flying through the doorway. He manages to keep upright before he can fall face first into the floor. “Oh, sorry for that, too. Just missed you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“We’ve been dealing with finals,” Ten says, turning just as Johnny shuts the front door.

Johnny grins, white teeth on full display. “Sicheng finally got you to come up a floor level, huh?”

When Ten doesn’t dignify the question with an answer, Johnny laughs. A heavy arm drapes across Ten’s shoulders and moves him toward the living room. Johnny lives with Taeyong and another man, Doyoung, so Ten’s partially expecting them to be there. Turns out, there are more than just Doyoung and Taeyong in the apartment.

Ten spots Taeyong in the middle of the couch with Doyoung on one side and Jungwoo on the other. Spread out on the floor, surrounded by paper, is a boy with spiky brown hair and round, puppy-like eyes. Ten knows this is Mark. They haven’t met often, but Taeyong talks about him fondly, as if Mark were his younger brother by blood, so Ten can recognize him a bit from the many pictures he’s seen. Kun is there, as well, in the chair by the window.

The coffee table in the middle of the room is littered with even more papers than the floor. It’s a mess. Ten’s not sure any of them have any idea what organization is. It’s giving him a bit of anxiety just looking at it.

“Ten, hey,” Taeyong greets him. There’s a smile on his face, but it’s a bit tight, a little tired, and Ten wonders how long they’ve been at whatever it is they’re doing. “I’m glad you could stop by.”

Johnny moves Ten farther into the room and grabs a dining room chair for him to sit on. “Honestly, me, too. You can save us from this hell.”

“What’s going on?” Ten asks, almost scared to get the answer.

“Invites and seat arrangements and all that shit,” Doyoung tells him, flatly, eyes set on the pages before him. “I’m going cross-eyed.”

“You’re good at organizing,” Johnny says. “Please, please, help us. We’ve been at this for hours.”

“Taeyong is super indecisive and his fiancé is zero help,” Mark comments from the floor.

Taeyong throws a balled-up sheet of paper at Mark’s back. “Hey, he’s dealing with other things right now. The least I can do is plan the party.”

“You don’t even want a party,” Doyoung says. “Don’t know why you guys care so much. It’s so traditional.”

“His parents want it and they’re paying for it, so we’re doing it. Want to help? It’s like human Tetris,” says Taeyong and Ten can hear the pleas in his tone.

Ten reaches forward for one of the pages. It has a list of names on it. He recognizes a few, but the rest are strangers. “Is this your guest list for the party?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a pretty small list,” he notes.

Taeyong nods. “Neither of us can have many people around. It’ll just be too much. I don’t think I could handle any more than that.”

That’s fair, Ten thinks. “I’m assuming you have the place and the date? It’s just who’s sitting where?”

“Pretty much,” he sighs, running his fingers through his bright red hair. Ten wonders if he’ll keep it for the party, or even the wedding. “It’s just a mess. It shouldn’t be this hard, but I keep having to change the list because, well, it’s me and I keep remembering most people don’t want to be around me.”

Ten remembers why Taeyong and him clicked so well. Both of them have been feared because of their abilities before. Taeyong casts him a half-smile, knowing exactly what he’s thinking.

“But then I remember the people I could invite and that means shifting a bunch. And the place isn’t that big, either, and I still need to pick out the decorations and the food, and where people can sit, and—”

“Okay,” Ten interrupts. “One thing at a time. You’re going to go through this list and make sure that those are the people you want. No changes after that, got it? Anyone who’s upset they weren’t invited can be added to the wedding reception. Johnny’s good with settings and stuff, he and Jungwoo can focus on getting decorations. Kun and Doyoung can handle the food, and Mark and I will help you settle the placement of the guests. Good?”

Johnny throws his hands up. “And this is why I keep you around, my little ghost whisperer!”

Ten sends him a very unimpressed look. “Get your laptop and start looking up decoration rentals and shit. All right, we’ve got work to do.”

It takes approximately thirty minutes for Taeyong to finalize the guest list, just shy of forty people. They spend the next two hours sifting through menus, picking out a color theme, and making sure the tables are filled with people who aren’t going to start a fight.

The one thing Ten’s noticed is the lack of family on Taeyong’s side. It’s not surprising, but it’s still a bit sad. Ten may not get along with his father all the time, but they’re still on talking terms. Taeyong doesn’t have that. Both of his parents are off the list. The only person remotely related is Taeyong’s uncle. The only other people Taeyong’s personally invited are his friends, people he’s picked to be his chosen family. Ten’s a little proud to be on that list.

After another hour or so, Kun has to leave for his evening shift at the clinic. Mark bows out shortly after that when he gets a text from his best friend, Donghyuck, to come join him. Jungwoo tells Mark to let his cousin know he’ll be home in a few hours while Taeyong winks at Mark as he puts on his shoes. Mark goes to throw his shoe. However, he thinks better of it, shoves it on his foot, and leaves. As soon as Doyoung leaves to take a nap, Johnny migrates into his spot on the couch beside Taeyong and Ten takes the comfy chair Kun vacated.

“So, married?” Ten says, breaking the silence.

Taeyong laughs. It’s light, airy, and a little self-conscious. His gaze drops to his left hand where a silver ring, with a small diamond imbedded into the face, wraps around his ring-finger. It glitters in the light of the room. “Yeah, it’s still a little strange. Sometimes I forget.”

“Don’t tell your fiancé that. I don’t think he’d enjoy being forgotten,” Johnny jokes. “Besides, you can’t say it was surprising. I saw this coming from a mile away.”

Taeyong leans forward, elbows on his knees and chin cupped in his hands. “Strangely enough, I didn’t. He hid it so well that I never suspected.”

“Crafty little bastard,” Jungwoo says.

The smile Taeyong gives is fond. “Yeah, he is.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny says with a wave of his hand. “Rub it in, why don’t you? Perfect boyfriend, perfect fiancé. Getting married. Soon you’ll be pushing perfect babies around and all of us will look on with our sad, little lives.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining. That girl on the first floor agreed to go on a date, didn’t she?”

Johnny nods, a smirk pulling into place. “That she did. Still, I’m far from the aisle and you’re almost walking down it. Where did the time go?”

“Well, let’s not rush things. I have to get through this party first,” Taeyong sighs. He starts collecting the pages on the coffee table into a neat pile. “Thank you for your help, Ten. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Shrugging, Ten says, “Not a problem.”

Johnny chuckles. “Probably isn’t. Ten loves organizing things. Just imagine who you end up with. He’s going to have to deal with a whole lot of color charts and alarms.”

“I’m not that bad,” Ten huffs. “I just like to try to control what I can since the majority of it is a fucking mess.”

“I don’t think you’re doing too badly,” says Taeyong. He gives Ten a smile. “You’ve made it through your finals and you made a new friend.”

“New friend?” Johnny’s eyes widen. “Excuse me? Which new friend? Did you get a boy toy and not tell me, Tenison?”

“One, my name is not _Tenison_. And two, he’s not my boy toy,” snaps Ten.

Johnny and Jungwoo exchange glances. They both smirk. Johnny looks to Ten and says, “But you want him to be?”

There are a couple of options Ten knows he can take, but he chooses to stay silent. Sometimes it’s easier to say nothing at all in Johnny’s presence. That way he can’t keep poking. This time, however, being quiet seems to spur Johnny on and his smile only grows, making Ten’s frown darken.

“Say anything and I shove that pen up your ass,” Ten threatens.

Much to his annoyance, Johnny laughs. “I want to meet this guy!”

“Johnny, leave Ten alone,” Taeyong says with a sigh. He stands up with the pile of papers to move them to the dining table. “Regardless of all that, you should invite him to the party, Ten.”

Ten snaps around. “What?”

“Invite him and your other friend—YangYang, right?—to the party,” Taeyong repeats. “We’ve got a few empty seats and they clearly mean a lot to the dance crew.”

“Remember when I said you couldn’t change the list anymore?”

Taeyong leans back on the table. “It’s my party. I can accommodate a couple more people.”

“We don’t really talk much,” Ten mutters. “And I only see him during practice. Maybe it’s best to just not invite him?”

“So, you’ll invite YangYang, but not your ‘new friend’? Cold, Ten,” Jungwoo says and Ten’s nose twitches. “Wait, doesn’t he live in this building?”

“What?” Johnny shouts.

“Yuta said he did, I think,” Jungwoo frowns at his phone. “Guys, I think I’m going to have to go. Lucas got his hand stuck in the washer?” His tone lifts up in the end as if he doesn’t totally believe what he’s reading. “He’s going to be a nightmare to live with.”

Taeyong shakes his head, smiling. “You’ll get used to it. Have you signed the leases?”

“You’re moving?” Ten asks.

Getting up from the couch, Jungwoo nods. “Yeah, we managed to secure a place in this building, actually. Donghyuck’s graduating this year, so we’re getting as far away from my parents as possible. Mark and his friends managed to get an apartment here, too. For the fall, so we still have some time to sort some stuff out.”

“We’re taking over,” Johnny announces, happily.

“I feel like this is both a good thing and a bad thing,” Taeyong admits. He hands Jungwoo his jacket, which was flung over the back of a chair. “You might want to tell Lucas to stop trying to get himself out of the washer. He’s going to hurt himself even more.”

Jungwoo lets out a string of colorful words, slips on his shoes, bids them all goodbye, and dashes out of the apartment. Ten hopes Lucas doesn’t lose his hand before Jungwoo arrives to save him.

“You would think after three years of dating, Jungwoo wouldn’t be so surprised. Then again, it’s Lucas and he always does the strangest things,” Taeyong says. He faces Ten. “So, about those invites.”

“Taeyong, I hardly even know him. It would be weird to ask him to go,” Ten explains.

“You’re not asking him to be your date,” Johnny puts in. “Just for him to join if he’s up for it. You said he’s in the building, right?”

Reluctantly, Ten nods and mutters, “Penthouse.”

The whistle Johnny releases is a bit shriller than he probably intended and both Ten and Taeyong wince. “Wow, got yourself a rich boy.”

“I don’t _‘got’_ myself any boy,” Ten says, voice hinging on hysteria. “I really don’t. Come on, Taeyong, you don’t really want him there do you?”

Taeyong doesn’t reply right away. He picks up the papers on the table and holds them up. “Johnny, do me a favor? Can you take these to my room and shove them into the wedding binder?”

Without question, Johnny gets up, takes the papers, and disappears down the hallway. Ten wishes he wouldn’t leave because now he’s got Taeyong staring at him and the anticipation is almost painful, and totally terrifying.

“You know I don’t like putting myself in the middle of people’s business,” Taeyong starts as he moves to take a spot beside Ten on the couch. “I’m not going to force you to invite him. In the end, it’s entirely your choice. But I will say that I think you need to start letting go and stop being so hard on yourself.” He takes Ten’s hand. “You deserve happiness just like the next person.”

Ten taps his temple and asks, “How much have you heard?”

“Only what I need to,” Taeyong replies. He squeezes Ten’s hand and lets go. “And maybe a little more.” Ten snorts. “But I only focus on the stuff that matters and your mind isn’t as strong to me as, say, Johnny’s. I do know, however, that you don’t hate the idea of bringing Hendery to the party? You’re just scared, in general.”

“You really think it’s a good idea?”

“I think you should do what you want to do, not what you think you should do. I’ll support whatever decision you make. Just try not to shove people you care about away.” The door to the bedroom opens and Taeyong whispers, “I’m glad you came over today.”

Johnny leans up against the wall with his arms crossed. “So, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Ten asks.

“To the penthouse. Duh.”

Ten looks to Taeyong, but the traitor only shrugs, pats him on the shoulder, and heads into the kitchen. Turning back to Johnny, Ten says, “I don’t want to.”

“Well, I want to meet him. So, you either take me up there or I go by myself and I bring all the embarrassing stories of freshman-Ten to this boy.”

When Johnny smirks, Ten glares at him. Somewhere, in the past, he remembers thinking that Johnny looked like trouble, looked like someone Ten shouldn’t make friends with because it would be more annoyance than it was worth. In the present, he beats himself up for not listening to that initial thought.

Because Johnny _will_ go up to the penthouse and do _exactly_ what he said. 

“Fine.” Ten stalks over to the door, puts on his shoes, and throws the door open. He glances back when Johnny doesn’t move. “You coming?”

“We’re going?”

“Hurry up.”

Ten finds himself in the elevator with Johnny, heart skipping and his foot tapping, restlessly. He reaches out to grab the bar that runs along the back of the elevator and taps his hand against it. The ring on his finger clinks against the metal.

Sighing, Johnny reaches out and stops his hand. “I know I pushed, but if this is really freaking you out, we can hit the button and go back down.”

Ten shakes his head. As much as a good part of him thinks this is a terrible plan, the other part is telling him he needs to get his head on straight, to stop being such a baby. Inviting Hendery to the party isn’t the end of the world and it’s not asking for a date. He’s just doing what Taeyong suggested.

Yeah. It’s Taeyong’s fault.

“I’m fine,” Ten mutters when the elevator dings and the door slides open. It opens up to a small lobby type area with another door, which probably leads straight into the penthouse. His breath catches in his lungs. It hurts.

Johnny stops over the threshold, arm out to hold the doors. “You sure?”

Ten shoves off the wall and skirts around Johnny. “Yes.”

Except, now he’s in the tiny lobby with terrible, brown wallpaper and squishy carpet and a light that flickers incessantly. He wants to knock, but his hand won’t do it. It simply hovers inches from the door. He grits his teeth.

“Fucking shit,” he hisses, stepping back and glaring at the door, wishing it would combust.

“Want me to—”

“No,” Ten snaps. “I can do it.”

He hates the way his heart rate picks up when he finally manages to tap his knuckles against the door. There’s just something about seeing Hendery in an unfamiliar place, out of the comfort of the studio. He’s on another territory and he’s not ready.

“I think it needs to be louder,” says Johnny when nothing happens after a few minutes.

Inhaling sharply, he lays a heavier knock on the door. His heart thuds against his chest when he hears someone yelling from inside and some quick steps, coming closer. The door swings open and Ten thinks he might have stopped breathing, but he’s not sure and he wonders if that’s really such a bad thing.

Perhaps, at this point in time, keeling over and dying would save him the embarrassment.

Hendery’s hand is still gripping the doorknob as he stares wide eyed at Ten, as if he doesn’t expect Ten to be there. And, to be honest, that’s a fair thing to be surprised about. The worst part is, however, that all Hendery’s wearing is black boxers and a black tank that’s so tight Ten’s pretty sure he can see the outline of all his muscles. Ten has abs, too, but it’s definitely different seeing them on Hendery. It makes his cheeks hot, and takes all his willpower to rip his gaze away to somewhere over Hendery’s shoulder.

“Ten,” Hendery says, cautiously. He lets go of the doorknob and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s not meant to be seductive, just a nervous tick by the expression on his face, but it does things to Ten’s insides he’d rather not feel. Luckily, he’s not the only one red at this point. Hendery’s face down to his neck is pink. “I—what are you doing here? I mean, hi, what do you need? Everything okay?”

It shouldn’t be endearing that Hendery immediately thinks something is wrong and needs to help him. It really shouldn’t because that’s what good people do. That’s what Hendery does. Ten’s not that special.

A heavy arm drops across Ten’s shoulders and Ten jumps. He’s almost forgotten Johnny’s there.

“I’m assuming you’re the new boy,” Johnny says, holding out his hand. His smile is way too big and Ten kind of wants to punch him. “I’m Johnny.”

Hendery’s eyes flick between Johnny and Ten before he reaches out and shakes Johnny’s hand. “Uh, hey. Hendery.”

“Nice to meet you,” Johnny says. “I’ve heard nothing about you until today.”

Ten elbows him in the ribs. Johnny doubles over and Hendery watches the whole thing, looking very unsure. His attention is on Johnny and the way his arm wraps around Ten’s shoulders naturally. Being taller, Johnny’s grown used to slugging an arm around Ten like this. It’s not strange to Ten, but it must seem a bit more comfortable and intimate than Hendery is used to seeing, especially since Ten isn’t a touchy person. 

“Um, so, uh,” he stutters, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Do you and your, um, friend want to come in?”

The way he says ‘friend’ is odd. His voice hardens just slightly and Ten can catch the implications he’s making. There are ways to go about this situation, but a lot of them make Ten sound defensive, so he keeps his mouth shut.

Not that it helps. Hendery’s eyeing Johnny as if he’s not sure what to do with him—same, Ten thinks, same. Except, something about his face feels tense and Ten’s not sure he’s ever seen Hendery so laser focused on something, eyes narrow and brows pulling together.

“Nah,” Johnny says, tone strained and hand still rubbing at his ribs. He finally lets go of Ten. “Ten here wanted to ask you something.”

Hendery leans against the door and crosses his arms. It makes his biceps prominent. They aren’t as large as Johnny’s, but they’re strong and Ten really needs to focus on the task at hand. Geez, he hasn’t actively checked someone out in ages and it’s doing things to his brain.

There’s no smile on Hendery’s face and Ten kind of wishes he would, just to dissolve the awkward shift in the air around them. Ten shifts on his feet, licking his lips and hoping the floor will open up and swallow him whole.

“Um, do you remember my friend who’s getting married?” Ten’s kind of surprised his voice comes out as even as it does since his heart certainly feels everything but even. Hendery nods slowly. “Okay, well, um, you’ve been invited.”

Hendery’s eyebrows raise. “Me?” His eyes flick to Johnny and then back to Ten. “Why?”

“Special invite,” Johnny says in Ten’s stead. Ten really wants him to stop talking.

“Taeyong wanted you to come. YangYang, too,” he adds quickly. “Not just you. The whole dance crew is coming and Taeyong thought you two should join us.”

Hendery lifts his head slowly and then lowers it, eyebrows knitting together. Scratching his cheek, he peeks over his shoulder and then asks, “When is it?”

“Three weeks from now,” Ten replies. “It’s a bit short notice, I guess, but what can you do, right?”

“Right,” agrees Hendery. “Um, I’d love to go.”

“There sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere,” Johnny says. He’s leaning against the wall now, hands in his pockets. He’s eyeing Hendery, just like Hendery was eyeing him before, and Ten knows that look. Johnny’s going into over-protective brother mode, scoping out Hendery as if he’s trying to figure out if he needs to defend Ten’s honor. He needs to stop that.

“I can’t leave Dejun for long. I mean, he can handle himself, but I worry when it gets late. The more tired he is, the more accident prone he gets,” Hendery tells them.

Ten and Johnny exchange a glance.

“Dejun?” Johnny questions.

“Xiao Dejun,” answers Ten. “The Chinese model. He’s Hendery’s friend and roommate. He’s blind, isn’t he?”

Hendery nods. “Yeah. And he’s generally great at moving around and everything, but it’s better if I’m there just in case something happens. I don’t want to leave him alone for too long.”

“Bring him,” Johnny blurts and Ten looks at him, hoping his gaze is hot enough to burn him. Come on, Johnny. Hendery was just about to say no. “Taeyong won’t mind an extra person.”

“If you’re sure—”

“Totally sure! Don’t worry about it. Ten will send you the info.”

Ten rolls his eyes to the ceiling and then looks to Hendery, who’s watching him with wide, dark eyes. “Yeah, I’ll text it to you. I hope you have a tux.”

He gets a soft laugh in response. “I do, actually. White or black?”

“Or red!” Someone—Dejun, Ten thinks—calls from inside the apartment. “You have that red one!”

It’s Hendery’s time to roll his eyes as he leans into the apartment and yells, “Quit your eavesdropping!”

“I heard my name! What do you expect me to do? Ignore it?”

“Your name is used everywhere and you ignore all those people,” Hendery counters. “Now, shoo or I’m leaving you here and moving all the furniture around.”

There’s a loud laugh and Dejun calls back, “I have ways of seeing, you know!”

Hendery doesn’t reply. He simply shakes his head and turns back to Ten and Johnny with a slight smile. “Sorry about him.”

“Red.”

Hendery blinks. “Sorry?”

Swallowing over the lump in his throat, Ten says, “The red tux. Wear that one. It’ll…it’ll look good.”

Oh, he’s just asking for it now. Self-punishment. An all time low for Ten. He might as well dig his own grave this evening and get it over with.

If it’s even possible, Hendery’s face turns even more pink and Ten thinks he might look the exact same and someone _please_ get him out of here.

“Uh, yeah,” Hendery says. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I can do that. So, just text me, I guess?”

“Will do.” Ten turns around and jabs the elevator button. He needs to leave. He needs to leave now.

“It was nice meeting you,” he hears Hendery say to Johnny.

Johnny’s response, “You too, man. It was nice to meet the guy that makes Ten go as red as a tomato. By the way, I’m not his boyfriend.”

Ten can’t stop himself. He whirls around and punches Johnny in the shoulder as hard as he can and Johnny winces. Hendery jumps back when Johnny nearly falls into him. Then, his eyes slide to Ten and he smiles, all crooked and smirk-like and Ten feels his heart stutter against his chest.

The elevator dings and Ten rushes inside. “Johnny, come here.”

Johnny does as he’s told. The last thing Ten sees as the doors close is Hendery leaning against the doorframe of his apartment with a grin growing on his face and a faint glow surrounding him. It takes another hour for Ten’s heart to get under control.

*

Contrary to popular belief, tuxedos are not comfortable. Ten’s heard of some engagement parties being laxer, allowing for more casual outfits, but Taeyong’s is formal. Almost as formal as if it were the actual wedding. This, of course, hadn’t been Taeyong’s choice, but his new in-laws’. If Taeyong had his way, it would be jeans and t-shirts. Hardly anything to write home about.

But Ten doesn’t have that option. No, he has to go through the uncomfortable time of slacks that keep riding up in all the wrong places and a blazer that limits his arm movements like a straight-jacket. Taeyong’s lucky Ten likes him enough to put on a full tuxedo for the night because he’s already tempted to strip it and leave.

Ten reaches up for his tie. It’s a tad bit tighter than he probably needs it to be, but Ten’s never been good at tying ties and it looks decent, so he’s a little scared to touch it and ruin it.

“Stop it,” Sicheng says, dragging Ten’s hand away from his tie. He moves in front of Ten and loosen it for him. “You look great. Stop fussing.”

“I don’t like parties,” Ten tells him with practiced ease. Sicheng’s never been into them either, but he’s gone out more than Ten, especially with Yuta, and there have been many times that Sicheng has tried to take Ten with him.

Sicheng sighs. “I know. This won’t be horrible, though. And it’s for Taeyong, so try to at least smile once.”

Ten gives him a forced smile, all teeth showing and Sicheng pinches him in the arm. “Hey! I tried.”

“You tried to look like something out of a horror movie. Now, can you stay here and be good while I go try to find my crazy boyfriend?”

Sicheng leaves and Ten leans back against the wall to eye the crowd. Despite having a three-week notice, the engagement party turned out rather well. Johnny had done a lot of the decorating and Taeyong had made sure there was way too much food. Everyone’s either chatting or dancing and Ten thinks it’s a success so far.

He can spot a lot of Taeyong’s friends. Mark’s with his own group of seven in the corner. There’s a golden skinned boy hanging off Mark’s arm, who Ten is pretty sure is Jungwoo’s cousin, Donghyuck. And two of the other boys are huddled close, fingers linked together and soft expressions being passed back and forth. Doyoung’s by the amp, sorting through the playlist of random songs that Ten’s pretty sure he just grabbed off of the party playlist on spotify. Somewhere within the crowd is Lucas and Jungwoo. They had greeted Ten early in the night and then vanished just as fast. It’s hard to keep track of them all, but Ten isn’t all that focused on them.

He barely notices Johnny slide up next to him because he’s glaring holes at the entrance.

“Still waiting?” Johnny asks. He has a glass of punch in his hands. Ten’s pretty sure he’s spiked it. “You could just call and ask where he is.”

“It’s fine,” Ten says. “They’ll arrive when they arrive.”

“You say as you tap your foot. You do that when you’re anxious,” Johnny points out. “He said he was coming, right?” Ten nods. “Then don’t worry about it and stop looking for him. Besides, he’ll find you. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, if he does, you aren’t allowed near him,” Ten decides. When Johnny opens his mouth to retort, Ten shakes his head. “No. You’re embarrassing.”

“Gee, thank you.”

Flicking his attention to the door, Ten spots several other strangers coming in. No Hendery. Or YangYang. Ten’s beginning to wonder if they’re actually coming.

“Have you seen Taeyong?” Ten asks when he notices he can’t find Taeyong within the crowd at all. In fact, Ten hasn’t seen him since he arrived.

Johnny nods. “He’s off in the green room. He needed a mental break. Want to go see him?”

“Yeah. I’ll go find him. I’ll be back.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for your boy,” Johnny says with a wink.

Ten is too tired to snap back, so he starts off toward one of the doors beside the stage that leads into a narrow hall with doors running along each side. He knocks and tests out each one. It isn’t until he’s nearing the end of the corridor that he gets a response when he taps against the wood. It’s faint, but very much Taeyong’s voice, so Ten opens the door and sticks his head in.

A white, floral room is on the other side. The curtains are thick satin, there are flowers on the table, and on the mantle of the fireplace. Even the wallpaper has embossed flowers on it. The carpet is bleached white and the couches look like they’re made for pictures, not for sitting in. And amongst all the wedding décor is Taeyong. He’s found a spot in the corner, knees pulled to his chest and his head buried in his arms.

Ten, slipping inside, closes the door and asks, “Are you okay?”

Gingerly, Taeyong lifts his head and shakes out his hair. It’s still as bright red as it was a few weeks ago and it’s a shocking contrast to his white tux. His eyes are glazed as he takes Ten in. “Hey, how’s the party?”

Ten takes his time, sliding down the wall to sit next to Taeyong. He stretches out his legs and watches how his shoes glitter in the light. “I’m sure you’d know if you were out there. Too much?”

“So much,” Taeyong says, running his hands through his hair. “I can’t…There are too many thoughts for so many things and I had to escape.”

“Do you want me to grab—”

“No.” Taeyong shakes his head. “No, don’t bother him. He’s having his own hard time right now and I think it’s best if we take some time to calm down. Just give me a minute.”

Ten links his hands together on his lap. “Don’t rush. People are still arriving and more people are interested in the free food than anything.”

That makes Taeyong laugh. “Not surprised. I would be, too. Still waiting for Hendery?”

Frowning, he says, “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

“I’m glad you invited him.”

“You knew I would.”

Taeyong hums. “I knew you were thinking about it. But if there’s one thing I’ve learn, it’s that people don’t always do what they think. You could have changed your mind. I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you deserve to give yourself a chance.” Taeyong straightens his legs with a heavy sigh. “You have so much good in you, Ten. Don’t think you deserve less than happiness because you don’t. Some abilities are a burden. They’re dark and they’re painful and they change so much in your life that you don’t want to change, but they also allow you to see the world so differently from everyone else. And we learn to adapt, to accept, to brace ourselves for the challenges.”

Ten bites his lip. Taeyong’s voice is calming, and his words a strong truth. If there’s one person who understands, it’s Taeyong and it makes Ten want to shrink in on himself every time he remembers because, yeah, he’s not alone. He’s never been. He just forgets. And maybe, perhaps, he’s gotten so used to thinking it that he might actually believe it.

Taeyong smiles at him. “We get through these things together, right? Can’t take on the world alone. Keep the people who understand and who want to understand close. Hendery may not fully get it, but he wants to try and you can’t turn that away, Ten. Don’t turn that away. That’s something you won’t find in everyone.”

They sit in the quiet, the music from the party room drifting faintly through the door. Then Taeyong stretches and starts to his feet. Ten follows.

“Well, time to face these people a little longer. God, I can’t wait to leave tonight,” Taeyong says as he heads to the door.

“Tell me about it. I can’t wait to get out of this thing.” Pulling on his tie, Ten adds, “It’s suffocating.”

Taeyong laughs. “Couple more hours, right?”

Together, they head back into the party. Taeyong’s swept away almost immediately and Ten is left finding Johnny by himself. Johnny’s by the punch table with a freshly topped up drink. He grins at Ten when he gets closer.

“Still no sign of Hendery,” Johnny informs him, “but I did find out that there are these little frosted cakes and they’re to die for. I think Taeyong actually made them. When he found the time, I don’t know.”

Ten shrugs. “Who knows. It’s Taeyong. I don’t question it anymore.”

He looks to the entrance—just once more and then he’ll give up for the night—when he spots her. His body tenses.

She’s in her forties, he guesses, with a cream-colored dress and her dark hair in curls. Her sharp eyes shift around the party before snapping to Ten and zoning in.

For fuck’s sake, not now.

If she were corporeal, her heels would click and her hair would bounce. But neither happens and it causes Ten’s stomach to sink. Johnny seems to notice how rigid he’s become because he places a warm hand on Ten’s shoulder.

“Ah, you _can_ see me,” the woman says as she comes to a stop right in front of him. Her smile is tight. “You can help me then.”

Ten stays quiet.

“You will help me,” she states. “You have to.”

“Why are you people so fucking bossy?” Ten inquires. Hopefully, no one’s paying attention.

“Ten?” Johnny asks. He’s searching for the ghost, coming up empty. His eyes keep slipping right past her, through her, every time. “Everything all right?”

“Fine,” he grits out. “What do you want?”

The lady crosses her arms and spins on her heel. “You see that man down there?”

Ten follows her gaze. Sure enough, at one of the tables in the corner is a group of men in their forties to fifties. In the center of them all is one man. He’s a little fuller in build, his laugh loud and boisterous, almost drunk-sounding.

“What about him?”

“I want you to take your friend’s punch and dump it over his head,” the lady spits, expression dark, sharp, and all kinds of dangerous. “Tell him it’s a gift from Jiwoo.”

Ten shakes his head. “I’m not doing that.”

“You will or I’ll find all the ways to follow you around forever,” she threatens.

“You’re all fucking assholes,” he hisses, but he dodges around Johnny to one of the tables lined with cups and drinks, and grabs one of the already full glasses of water because, fuck that, he’s not using punch. “Johnny, get me Jungwoo.”

“What?”

Ten repeats, “Get me Jungwoo.”

Without another word, Johnny disappears.

The lady grins at the water. “Grab the pitcher. Ice water will work just as well, I think.”

With a growl, Ten drags the pitcher over. It’s cold. Almost as cold as the chill radiating from Jiwoo’s spirit. Biting the inside of his cheek, he lifts the pitcher and starts toward the table. He can sense her following him. His stomach is churning.

Ten knows he could back away. He could choose to not do what the dead want him to do. Except, that hardly ever works because they follow him. They stick to him. And Ten thinks that he can do this, and the man can get a little wet and a lot angry, and then neither of them have to deal with a ghost ever again. It’s just too bad this has to happen so publicly. At Taeyong’s engagement party.

He slows down.

“What is it?” the lady demands.

“This is my friend’s party. I can’t disrespect his guest like this,” Ten mutters, trying to keep his voice down for the people around him.

“I’m stuck in this dance hall because of that bastard. This is the first time in years I’ve met someone who can see me, and I want to dump hell on him. Or, well, ice water.”

Ten’s grip tightens on the pitcher. The condensation drips over his fingers. “Who is he?”

“He owns the place,” Jiwoo answers. “Utter bastard. Found him cheating on me and when I ran out of here a car hit me. Can you image how humiliating that is? Bet he’s married her. Bet she doesn’t even know he was married in the first place.”

The man laughs. Clearly, he’s having the time of his life while his dead wife wishes for him to feel the humiliation she felt. Unfortunately, she can’t do it alone.

“Do it,” she insists. “Just dump it on his thick head.”

Ten glances around and spots Johnny pushing through the people with a confused Jungwoo on his heals. He catches their eye before starting toward the table. As he gets closer, the laughter dies away and the man Jiwoo pointed out runs his eyes over Ten’s form, frowning slightly when he spots the pitcher. Quietly, Ten moves around the table so he’s right beside the man.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Ten grits his teeth.

“Ten,” Jungwoo says, carefully. “What are you doing?”

He closes his eyes, inhaling to gather himself, and when he opens them again, he says, “This is for Jiwoo.”

The man’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before Ten tilts the pitcher of ice water over his head. It splatters against his head, his shoulders. Droplets spray against Ten’s tux and the ice cubes clink against the hardwood flooring. Ten’s well aware that the room has become quiet, that people are watching now. It makes him feel nauseous.

With shaky hands, he places the pitcher on the table and steps back to look at Jiwoo.

She’s grinning, teeth sharp. He hopes this is enough for her, so she can finally move on. “Well, I’d like to do a bit more,” she says, “but I’ll take it. Karma will find him, right?”

For the first time since he talked to her, Jiwoo sounds hesitant and a bit vulnerable. Ten’s not sure what to say. He wants to tell her ‘yes’, but he can’t promise that. He has no control over life, just like he has no control over death.

Still, as his heart reaches out for her and all the other ghosts that have had to live in the unknown for so long with no way to help themselves, he nods and says, “Right.”

Her smile softens, like she knows he’s lying to her, and fades from view.

“What the fucking hell? You brat! What did you just do?”

The man’s voice snaps Ten out of it and he moves farther away when the man stands. Ten looks to Jungwoo and snaps his fingers, gaining Jungwoo’s attention. “Dry him off, please. And, sir, perhaps you should learn to keep your dick in your pants. Jiwoo sends her regards.”

He spins on his heel. The people part for him and Ten keeps his head down and his steps quick. He’s barely to the door that leads to the gardens at the back of the room when he looks up and spots Hendery.

Ten feels like he’s been punched in the chest. Dressed in a red tux, just like he promised, Hendery stares at him with wide eyes and stunned silence. Wanting to escape, Ten slips out the door. It slams shut. He tries not to think about how ashamed he is, about Hendery’s surprise, about the people who watched the whole thing. Instead, he tries to focus on his stomach, trying to calm it.

The air is fresh and warm. The stickiness of summer clings to his skin, but he doesn’t mind because after Jiwoo he’s chilled from the inside out and it feels good. He drags his feet along the path between the manicured gardens built for wedding and engagement photos. It’s a beautiful place. Surely, it cost a lot of money to rent for the night. Ten wonders just how loaded Taeyong’s fiancé is.

The leaves rustle together, a soft sound mixed with the tinkling of water from a fountain placed in the middle of the garden. It’s lulling, relaxing. But as he slows his steps, something cold settles around him like a blanket. He spins around. Nothing is there but flowers and bushes, illuminated by garden lamps. The shadows dance across the stone path, drawing closer. Ten steps back, heart beat quickening.

Wind whistling in his ears, Ten feels the cold brush against his elbow and he jumps away. His body flashes between cold and hot, make his head hurts. There’s something almost haunting in the way the shadows bend toward him like they’re dancing, mocking him.

He runs. He can feel them on his heels, licking desperately for him, and he just wants to get away. At the end of the path is a glass building. A greenhouse of sorts, Ten turns the handle, praying it’s unlocked, and he’s so fucking lucky it is. Throwing himself in, he slams the door behind him and presses his back against the hot glass.

The air turns wet and hot, yet cold keeps slapping at him, locking around his bones like it’s laying claim. He watches as the shadows sink in through the cracks of the door beneath his feet. His hip bumps one of the tables covered in plants as he tries to move away. It’s becoming darker. Light being sucked away and leaving Ten empty. The shadows climb up the glass walls.

“What do you want?” he calls out, shuffling backward. His foot hits a hose and he tumbles to the stone floor. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

He knows the answer. They want someone who can hear them, see them, help them. Ten’s their only chance at redemption. Except they’ll never get it because even they don’t know how to show themselves to him, how to ask to for help, or even what help they truly need. They’re nothing but silhouettes of dead people. They cling to him and he can’t escape.

“Stop,” he whimpers, lifting his arms to cover his head. “Stop! Just stop! Please. I beg you.” He can’t help the way his voice cracks, how it comes out more like a breath than a sound.

Suddenly, the door to the greenhouse slams open. “Ten!”

The shadows vanish instantly and it’s like Ten can breathe again. He peeks through his arms as quick footsteps come to him. He sees the glow before the person. It’s warm and bright and, fuck, Ten needs that right now.

Hendery drops to his knees, eyes wide and forehead crinkled with a frown. “Ten?” He looks uncertain, unsure if he should reach out.

So, Ten does the only thing he can think of.

Ten launches himself at Hendery. His arms lock around his shoulders and he holds on as if he’s a shadow about to be dragged away, too. Hesitantly, Hendery’s hands settle on his back. The hug is the most comforting thing Ten’s felt in ages. He never wants to let go.

He sinks into Hendery’s arms, burying his face into Hendery’s neck. He closes his eyes against glowing skin. He tries to sort out his beating heart, his spinning mind. It’s so much all at once and he’s not sure what exactly needs to be dealt with first. Regardless, he’s not too worried about it because he’d rather focus on remembering where he is, and feeling how solid and real Hendery is at this very moment in time.

Hendery’s hair tickles his forehead when Ten lifts his head enough to whisper, “Thank you.”

After a moment, Ten leans back and Hendery watches him carefully, glow fading slightly. Ten’s not sure what else to say and he knows that the whole situation is a little awkward, so he doesn’t even know what’s appropriate to do. He and Hendery both know he’s not really affectionate, and that makes the whole thing a bit stranger.

“I don’t know what you’re thanking me for,” Hendery starts, voice quiet, “but you’re welcome. Are you all right? Do you need anything? I can get you water.”

He’s making his way to his feet—probably to get that water—but Ten snatches his wrist and pulls him back. Hendery stares at the hand gripping at him.

“Don’t go,” Ten pleads. “Not yet. Please.”

Slowly, Hendery nods and settles back onto the floor. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

Ten coughs a laugh, letting go of Hendery’s arm. “You’re too nice.”

“Only to the people I care about,” Hendery replies, easily, and Ten’s fingers grip at the edge of his blazer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“They were everywhere,” he mutters. His blazer is a bit restricting as he wraps his arms around himself.

“Who was?”

Eyes snapping to Hendery, Ten says, “The shadows.”

The wind whistles and Hendery glances over his shoulder as if he’s expecting someone to be there. He inhales deeply and asks, “What are they?”

“That’s harder to explain. When a person dies and they have something pressing left to do they never got to finish, their spirit stays behind. I help them with that so they can move on to where they need to be,” Ten explains. “If someone so empty of life or purely evil where their soul has withered to nothing dies, they leave behind a shadow. An essence of death, I guess. They loom with nowhere to go and no mind to figure it out. They like to stick with me because I feel like death to them, the closest thing like them. As time goes by, more gather. It’s getting harder to keep them away. I used to be able to, but I can’t shake them as much anymore.”

Ten’s nails dig into his sides. The warm air of the greenhouse rests on him. Even when he hears Hendery shifting, he doesn’t look up from the stone floor between them. He just needs a moment to collect himself. Then he’ll be fine.

“Are they still here?” Hendery asks as he sets himself next to Ten. Something settles around his shoulders and Ten realizes it’s a red blazer. Hendery must have noticed him trembling.

“No,” he says. “Oddly enough, they scattered when you got here. I don’t get it. They’ve never been scared of another person before.”

When he looks at Hendery, he finds him not looking back. Instead, his gaze flits over all the plants and the tall glass walls, searching. Hendery isn’t threatening in any way. He’s boyish and smiley and overall, very welcoming. Even his powers are bright and happy. What can the dark side of death be scared of when it comes to Hendery, their absolute polar opposite?

What does Ten have to be scared of when it comes to Hendery?

Biting his lip, Ten adverts his gaze.

“Just me?” Hendery’s tone is wary, even a little hopeful.

“Yeah, just you.”

“So, I guess being promoted to friend status isn’t all that helpless?”

Hendery’s lips twitch into a slight smile, a bit crooked and oh so easy. Ten shakes his head, exhaling a laugh. “I guess so. Don’t go getting a big head, though. Even as a friend I can either be a total sweetheart or an absolute bitch.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Hendery tells him. “There’s not really a part of you I dislike.”

Ten’s heart stutters in his chest. His stomach swoops when Hendery grins so much wider, his body lighting up like a beacon. With no words, Ten keeps his mouth shut. They keep to the silence a little longer until Hendery gets to his feet and holds out his hands. Ten takes them and stands, handing Hendery back his blazer because he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need help getting warm anymore. All he has to do is look at Hendery and his body lights like a flame, cheeks burning. He’s glad it’s dark in the greenhouse.

“We should head back,” Hendery says, but he doesn’t move. Neither does Ten.

“I don’t think I’m welcome,” Ten admits. “Not after what I did.”

Hendery chuckles. “Yeah, that was definitely a show. Another ghost?”

“She was interesting. Weirdly enough, I kind of liked it. Dumping water on that guy’s head, now that I think about it. Kind of freeing.”

That makes Hendery laugh harder. He struggles to breathe and when he sucks in it comes out a squeak. It makes Ten cover his mouth and snort, falling into a fit of giggles. Calming himself, Hendery holds out his hand and Ten doesn’t hesitate to take it and let Hendery lead him outside.

Fingers linked together, they slowly make their way toward the party, the faint music drifting around them as they draw closer. Ten can see the guests through the windows. He’s just hoping that his previous act has been forgotten in the time he’s been away. Although, he also sincerely doubts that. He’s going to get questions from his friends, definitely some stares from all the other strangers.

Sure, his abilities are an easy way to explain the situation, but he also knows that most people won’t get it. They’ll demand to know why he needed to do what he did, why he can’t just walk away or ignore the ghosts. It’s a conversation between him and several people who won’t understand what it’s like to live almost twenty-two years of life sensing and dealing with the dead.

They come to a stop, still several feet from the door. The water of the fountain rushes beside them, calmingly. Ten feels the way Hendery squeezes his hand, as if he’s trying to take Ten’s mind off what’s to come, bring him back to reality because, _man_ , Ten spends way too much time in his head that can be considered healthy.

“It’s okay,” Hendery tells him, quietly. He moves so he’s standing in front of Ten, blocking the view to the party—bright lights and all. “Don’t worry.”

Ten nods, gaze locked on windows and the people inside.

“Hey.”

His attention snaps to Hendery when he feels a hand on his jaw, fingers ghosting across his skin. Hendery’s watching him with dark eyes. Ten finds himself struggling to breathe, especially when Hendery’s eyes drop to his mouth and then back up.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, and Ten finds himself following the way Hendery’s mouth shapes around the words, his insides becoming warm.

He wants to say he expects it, that it was inevitable, because, damn it, Ten’s _not_ stupid. He’s cataloged every glance, every smile. He’s noticed it all. But he’s also spent so much time trying to ignore it that it somehow feels surprising. His fingers flex against his side.

Hendery’s moving closer and Ten lets him. Lets him draw nearer until his lips brush against Ten’s. His breath hitches and Hendery presses closer, using the hand still linked on Ten’s to bring them together. Ten can’t even close his eyes because he’s still trying to figure out what’s really happening.

Sensing Ten’s stillness, Hendery leans back. A flash of panic crosses his face. “Fuck. Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, Ten. I shouldn’t have—that was crossing the line and I didn’t even ask and I just—I’m so fucking sorry—”

Ten, wrapping his hand around the nape of Hendery’s neck, slams his mouth against Hendery’s. To shut him up or simply kiss him, he’s not really sure, but it works for both. He slants their lips together, seeking out everything Hendery’s willing to give him because it feels right and he can’t stop himself. His hands have a mind of their own, pulling Hendery in.

The taste of fruit settles on Ten’s tongue, making him wonder if Hendery had snagged a glass of punch before finding Ten in the greenhouse or maybe even before Ten poured water over that man’s head. That’s so little of a problem right now, though. It’s sour and sharp and it sets something off in Ten like a firecracker every time his tongue brushes against Hendery’s.

Hendery grabs at Ten’s hips and yanks him closer, spinning him so fast that he stumbles back into the wall of the building, just out of view from the windows. His back hits the brick so hard that it pushes all the air out of his lungs. Except he can barely get breath back because Hendery’s lips are sealing over Ten’s again, and the only thing Ten can feel is the humid air flowing around them and the way Hendery’s body fits against his. 

It’s so hot and sticky and uncomfortable in the suit he’s wearing, but he can hardly find it in himself to care. All he can think is _fuck, Hendery, fuck_ and the way Hendery presses closer makes Ten think that maybe he’s saying it out loud. His blazer tightens on his arms as he reaches up to run his fingers through Hendery’s hair, gripping it like it’s some kind of anchor to reality.

His pulse beats erratically in his ears, and Hendery’s fingers dig into his sides as he leans farther in. When Hendery’s leg slips between Ten’s, it shoots chills up his spine and he gasps, throwing his head back. He feels one of Hendery’s hands leave his side to slip down to his thigh, nails biting through the slacks. Ten doesn’t think they can get much closer, but he tries, wrapping his leg around Hendery’s waist as strongly as he can, shoving them together even more. An embarrassing whimper escapes Ten’s lips when Hendery pulls away, mouth drifting along Ten’s jaw to his neck.

Everything about it feels blistering and desperate. One of Ten’s hands takes hold of Hendery’s tie, yanking on it. Hendery elicits something akin to a growl and Ten lights up, eyes rolling up to the night sky and, _yeah_ , he needs to go to church based on where his mind is going.

Shit.

Fuck.

 _God dammit_.

His body starts to buzz, tremble, and Hendery’s grip on him tightens. There comes a point where everything is just so overwhelming that Ten’s not sure what to pay attention to. Someone’s grasping, someone’s pulling, mouths are clashing together as if they’re each other’s last drink of life, and Ten shudders as his mind tries to bring him back down. To remind him what’s really happening.

Placing his hands on Hendery’s shoulders, he pushes and Hendery allows him. It’s sweet how he follows Ten’s moves, his needs. His lips are swollen, red high on his cheeks, and his hair very much a mess. Ten thinks he probably looks the same. Maybe a little worse. They watch each other, panting in the soft sounds of the garden. Ten wants to reach out again, but he knows he can’t.

Because, at the end of the day, Hendery is light and Ten deals with darkness. It’s not a fitting match. Not a match Hendery should have to deal with.

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” Hendery asks, voice barely a whisper.

Ten shakes his head. “No. No, you did nothing wrong. I just…I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

As he turns to walk away, Hendery catches his wrist and tugs him back. “Wait, I don’t understand. What’s wrong then? What can I do? Ten, you can talk to me. You know you can.”

“It’s not anything you did,” Ten says, voice shaking. “I just can’t do this, Hendery. We don’t—We can’t do this.”

Without another word, he wrenches his wrist from Hendery’s hold and runs. He ignores Hendery’s call after him, dodges Johnny and Taeyong, who watch him with frowns and open mouths, and he races out of the party with no clear direction or goal but to get out.

He passes Yuta’s ugly car and Hendery’s black Kia and to the sidewalk along an empty street. It takes twenty minutes for his heart to calm down, thirty minutes for his feet to finally slow to a stop, and forty-five for him to gather himself enough to get onto a bus without looking like he’s crazy. He’s not crying, but he sure feels like he should be because he can’t get Hendery’s face out of his mind. Ten’s hurt him. He knows he has.

Once he finally reaches his apartment, his legs feel like jelly and the rest of him is completely numb. He stumbles into the living room, ripping at his blazer to get it off. He pops the buttons on his slacks and removes them before starting on his dress shirt. He leaves the tuxedo a mess on the floor, kicking them away with a scream.

He’s doing the right thing, he thinks. He’s giving Hendery a chance to let him go and find someone better. He’ll find someone that matches his glow and his smiles.

Ten’s head hurts and his hands won’t stop shaking and he feels like everything is unravelling, but he’s got to hold it together somehow, so he slams open his bedroom door, slips on an old t-shirt and jogging pants, and digs out the vodka under his bed. He doesn’t even bother with a glass. He presses his lips, fruit punch still on his tongue, and chugs.

He doesn’t remember much after that. His mind is a fog of emptiness and confusion. The room shifts in his vision. In and out. Right side up and upside down. He tries not to think about Hendery, his lips, his hands, the way his hold was secure in all the ways Ten likes.

“Way to fucking go, Ten,” he mutters into the mouth of the bottle. It’s almost empty. “Fucking things up like you always do, huh?”

The sound of the front door rings through his fuzziness. He can hear someone calling out for him. Sicheng, maybe. Sounds like him. And when the bedroom door opens, the shape and colors vaguely look like him.

“Ten, what the hell?” Sicheng squats down, peeling Ten’s hand from the vodka bottle. “Look at you. What were you thinking?”

“That my mind needed a break,” he says. At least, he thinks he does. His tongue feels a little heavy, and he’s pretty sure he’s slurring. “You’re not at the party.”

“No, I came to find your dumb ass. Taeyong told me where to find you, before you ask. God, you reek.” Licking his lips, he shakes his head and sighs. “You shouldn’t have run out like that. You had us all worried. Hendery most of all.”

Ten scoffs. “Tell him—Tell him not to worry about me. Don’t _need_ him worrying about me. He has better things to be dealing with.”

“You’re an idiot, you know that? He’s here.”

“Who?”

“Hendery, asshole. He came with me because he was fucking worried and, now, you’re just brushing him off? Look, I don’t know what happened between you two, but get your act together. You’re an adult. Learn to deal with your shit like one.”

Sicheng stands and leaves the room. Ten thinks this is good. Now, he can get back to the quiet, back to the drowsiness the alcohol was giving him. Except, Sicheng took his vodka, so now he can’t even finish it.

Jerk.

Ten struggles to his feet, using the bed as leverage. His hands slip, he pitches forward, and he would have fallen flat on his face if someone hadn’t caught him around the middle. Oh, his sight isn’t supposed to swirl like that.

“Please tell me that kiss wasn’t bad enough for you to search for the bottom of the bottle,” Hendery whispers and Ten freezes. “Do you need to sit down?”

“Stop.”

“Sorry?”

It takes a little bit of effort, but Ten manages to control his limbs enough to shove Hendery away. “Stop being so nice! Stop, stop, stop.” He points at Hendery. “Stop.”

“Ten, if I did something wrong—”

“There you go. Being nice again. You know, as well as I do, that I don’t really deserve that,” he says as if he’s sharing a secret. His body rocks and when Hendery reaches forward to help him, Ten spins away and drops on his bed. Except, he misses the mattress by a bit and falls to the floor. “Ow.”

“God, are you okay?”

“You know,” Ten says, “you shouldn’t be here. You really shouldn’t. Why are you here?”

Hendery lowers himself so he’s can look directly into Ten’s eyes. “Because I was worried about you. You just ran away and…I don’t know. Now, look at you.”

“Worrying is for losers. I think you should stop that.”

“Well, when you care about someone it’s a little hard to not worry, I’ve found.”

An ugly sort of laugh rips from his throat, and Ten says, “Care. Care? Oh, that’s funny. Love the joke.”

Hendery frowns. “I wasn’t joking.”

“Then you’re an idiot,” Ten snaps. He can’t really see anymore. Hendery’s just a blob of colors, floating just inches from Ten. Lots of red, he notes. It’s whole lot of red. “You don’t care about me. People shouldn’t care about me. You know why?”

“Why?” The question comes out hesitant.

“Because I don’t deserve anyone’s care.” He waves his hands as if it’s obvious. “Tell you what. How about we forget this ever happened and we go back to being whatever the fuck we were? Wait. What were we? Were we friends? I don’t remember. My head hurts.”

“You need water.”

“Stop! Please, just stop. Leave me alone. Just use that head of yours to realize we don’t—we don’t work. And I’m not about to drag you into my shithole of a life and you shouldn’t want that. Otherwise, you’re a damn idiot.” He drops his face into his hands. “I don’t want you and you don’t want me. That’s the way things are.”

“If you’re so sure of what _I_ want, then we have nothing to argue about, do we?”

“Just go away,” Ten says, gripping at his fringe and refusing to look at Hendery. He’s too scared to. “You can stop now.”

The quiet hurts. It hurts so fucking bad because Ten has no idea what Hendery is thinking and Ten’s not even sure what _he’s_ thinking. His mouth just keeps filling the silence, messily.

“Do you actually want that?” Hendery asks, carefully.

Ten squeezes his eyes shut. “What happened was never supposed to happen. It was just—just a reaction. A mistake. As if I’d actually want to kiss you.”

“Wow,” Hendery breathes.

“We’re just friends, Hendery. Or less than that. I don’t know. You were a replacement for Kun, nothing else. So, please, do me the fucking favor of leaving me the fuck alone.”

Stomach churning, he listens to Hendery get up and walk away. He flinches when the front door slams.

“Oh, Ten. What are you doing?” Sicheng asks as he leans against the doorframe.

Ten doesn’t reply because he has no answers. What _is_ he doing? He sure as hell doesn’t fucking know and that’s the painful part. Maybe if he had a reason other than being scared, it would make more sense.

Bringing his knees up, digging his face into his arms, Ten stares at the wall. Unshed tears cling to his eyelashes. “Close the door, Sicheng.”

The last thing he hears for the night is the door sealing shut, sending the room into darkness.

*

Contrary to what Ten thought, Hendery still comes to practices. Of course, he keeps his distance from Ten, doesn’t even look at him unless he needs to. His smile is tight and his eyes aren’t shinning and it’s been two weeks since it all happened and no matter how much he laughs his glow never arises. Ten knows he’s to blame and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

He was trying to do what was right, what needed to be done, and instead it somehow feels as though he stabbed Hendery and twisted the knife for good measure.

There’s a moment on a Friday, when the large group of them have come together to run a rehearsal, that Ten finds himself talking to his crew off to the side. He keeps his eyes down, his words short, and the whole meeting even shorter. Hendery is the first to leave when Ten is done.

Sicheng and Taeyong are there for him. They suggest he apologize, but Ten thinks they’re way past that. He doubts saying he’s sorry will mend anything. And, even though he feels guilty for hurting Hendery, he doesn’t think he did anything wrong because, in the end, this was the goal. To teach Hendery that Ten isn’t what he wants or deserves.

They go through rehearsal after rehearsal, polishing and perfecting the whole routine until there’s nothing left untouched. Eunhyuck, Donghae, and Hyolyn are happy and that’s all the group want. They want their three leaders to be proud of them.

So, come competition day, Ten feels ready. Yet worried. It’s a bad feeling that stirs in his stomach and tilts his mind away from everything he should be focusing on. Sitting in the crowd, the feeling only gets worse as more performances come on stage.

The music pumping from the speakers and the cheers of the audience make Ten’s eardrums thrum. The rest of his crew sits with him and they watch with jaws hanging and eyes focused. All the groups that have gone are talented beyond words. Their sizes vary and so do the styles, but each one is brilliant in their own way and Ten is captivated.

When it comes time for them to go, Ten follows his dance crew without much thought. His hands twist together while he waits for the group on stage to finish. His body won’t stay still, itching to go. Quietly, Sicheng rests his hand just above Ten’s elbow in a gesture of comfort, except it just makes him more anxious and he searches for something to calm him.

His eyes land on Hendery. He’s in position, next to YangYang, stretching himself out and not paying Ten any mind. It’s the first time since that night that Ten feels—well, he feels broken. His heart aches for Hendery to just turn and smile at him.

Not that he’ll get that. He knows he’s far from getting something like that from Hendery and can’t even be mad about it because he did it to himself.

“Ready?” Yuta asks from Ten’s other side.

Ten nods.

The hosts are announcing them and the lights are dimming. As their music starts, Ten looks over the crew. They’re all moving in some way. Stretching, bouncing, whispering excitedly. It’s been months and they’re finally ready to get out there and kill it.

He’s turning back to the opening in the curtain, stepping forward along with the rest of the group, when he catches Hendery’s eye. His breathing stills. The nod he gets is light, barely there, but Ten grabs onto it as he rushes out to dance.

It’s all a bit of a blur. It usually is. Ten goes into a sort of headspace where he knows there’s cheering, knows his body is moving, but it never fully registers in his head. In a way, it feels like floating and Ten loves it. Even though that swishing, horrible feeling in his stomach sticks with him with every step.

He tries not to focus on that. He keeps his attention on his crew, on the beat of the music, on the way his body twists and turns. It’s his job and he’s not about to fail anyone else. Not now. Because this is what they’ve been waiting for and working so hard on and Ten knows they’re trying just as hard as he is.

It’s for the dancers that have been there for years, for the ones that had to leave them, and the ones that joined on short notice. Ten dances for them all.

Before he knows it, the song is coming to a close and Ten is kneeling on the ground, chest heaving to gain as much air as it can. Sweat beads along his hair line and slides down his neck as he rises with the rest of them and rushes off stage.

YangYang launches himself onto Ten’s back and they pitch forward. On shaky legs, Ten catches them just before they can fall.

“We did it! That was awesome! Did you see Hyunjoon’s flip?” YangYang rushes out. “And the way Seulgi, Wendy, and Joy had the crowd speechless? Dude, we rocked it!”

Eunhyuck makes his way through the buzzing happiness to announce, “You all did incredible. Dinner’s on Donghae.”

Poor Donghae’s “What?” is drowned out by the cheers.

Linking an arm through Ten’s, Sicheng says, “How you feeling? Happy?”

Ten is proud. He’s so incredibly proud at what they’ve accomplished and it’s amazing how just months before he was a stressed mess, thinking they weren’t going to make it. He meets Sicheng’s gaze and smiles slightly before he notices a head of red hair next to a tall figure.

“You destroyed it!” Johnny shouts as he picks Ten up and swings him around. He drops Ten back on his feet with a grin.

“We haven’t won yet,” Ten tells him, shoving Johnny’s shoulder.

“Doesn’t matter if you did or not. You guys did amazing,” says Taeyong. “I was going to invite you back to my place for food, but it looks like you’re already getting it.”

“Um, can I come?” Yuta asks as he raises his hand. “I’d take your food any day.”

Taeyong laughs. “Yeah, of course. All of you can come. Just…Uh, Hendery’s gone.”

That gains his attention. Ten spins around. Sure enough, Hendery is nowhere in sight. Taeyong takes his arm and whispers, “Parking lot.”

His feet are moving before he can think about it. He shoves his way through the crowded backstage. When he manages to break free, he races to the entrance of the theater. It’s raining. Pouring, really. It hits against the pavement in large, heavy drops. The clouds above are dark, and rolling into town at a dangerous speed. Ten is soaking the moment he steps outside. He stumbles down the front steps, searching for Hendery’s familiar Kia. 

He finds Hendery almost to his car, across the parking lot, and he runs. Much like Ten, Hendery hasn’t bothered with an umbrella or a coat—not that Ten had the time to do that—and is looking just as wet as Ten feels.

“Hendery!” 

Stopping in his tracks, Hendery waits for Ten to catch up. The rain is dripping from his hair and his eyelashes, settling into his clothes so that they’re drooping from the weight. Ten fumbles to a halt. He’s made it this far and he’s not even sure what to say, especially because Hendery looks so tired and unresponsive. It’s not right.

“They’re going to announce the winner soon,” he says loud enough to be heard over the rain. He can feel the droplets sliding across his skin and his clothes are stuck to him uncomfortably.

Hendery sighs. “What do you want, Ten?”

“Come back inside.”

“I thought you wanted me to leave you alone.”

The words feel like a slap. He deserves it. “I know, but you can’t leave yet. Stick around. Come with us back to Taeyong’s for dinner.”

“No, Ten. You don’t get to do this.” His voice is quiet and Ten can barely hear him. Then he says, a little stronger, “You can’t just tell me to leave you alone, shove me away, and then chase after me, acting as if none of it ever happened. I don’t care about the results, Ten. Just do what you were so set on doing and keep away from me.”

“Then why are you here if you don’t care?”

“For you!” Hendery shouts, rivaling the rain. Shoulders slouching, he runs his hands through his wet hair.

Ten is left wondering what he can do, how he can help, but he’s already fucked up and he’s worried about ruining it even farther. Even still, he can’t help the “W-what?” that comes out of his mouth.

Hendery takes a step closer and Ten tries his best not to retreat. “I did it for you, you absolute idiot. At first, it was because YangYang asked me to and it gave me a chance to dance again and be a part of something. But the moment I stepped into that studio I liked you. I don’t know what it was, but something drew me to you and I thought to myself, ‘Hey, why not try?’ And things were going so well and I knew how much this whole competition meant to you. You were so stressed about it that I just wanted to help you.” He looks away, gathering himself, and then his eyes pierce into Ten’s. “I did my job and you’ve made your feelings known, so I’m doing what I should.”

“Hendery—”

“No, Ten!” His body flashes with white light so brightly that Ten has to look away. When it’s gone, he sees just how tired Hendery is. Dark circles below his eyes and cheeks drained of color. “Look, I’m not the kind of person to chase after the person I like when I know it’s a lost cause. You said you didn’t want me. I’m backing away just like you wanted. Why are you even here?”

Biting his lip, he tries to come up with the right words, but they’ve all escaped him. Just his luck. Instead, he says, “I was wrong.”

Hendery snorts. “Drunken words are sober thoughts, aren’t they?”

“Sober thoughts I’ve forced myself to believe. Hendery, I have nothing against you. This has everything to do with me and what I think is right for you.”

“For me?”

Gesturing to Hendery, he says, “You’re so _good_. And I’m not. You don’t deserve to struggle with me. You should be out there having a happy life and you can’t do that with me.”

“Who are you to decide what I want to do with my life, Ten?” Hendery snaps, pointing to himself with a shaky hand. “It’s my life. I get to pick who I want and who I don’t. I get to pick if I want to struggle or not. And, despite what you may think, I never once struggled with you. It’s always been so clear, so easy. You were the one that made it difficult. Because you have this thought in your head that you’re as dark as your power and you’re not. You’re nowhere close. You have a habit of pushing people away. I don’t think I can deal with that.”

“Can’t we just continue the way we were before the—before it happened?” Ten asks. The rain is falling into his eyes, making his eyelashes heavy. He crosses his arms over his chest to keep warm.

“You know that can’t happen,” Hendery says. “I like you too much to do that. And you wouldn’t seriously ask me to go through that.”

Ten closes his eyes. His heart clenches with every word in a type of pain Ten’s never felt, nor can explain. It swells from his chest and explodes through his limbs. He wants to drop right there. Maybe even cry because he can see the same pain in Hendery’s eyes and he wishes on everything good in the world to take it away.

“I don’t know how to fix it,” he mutters.

Hendery seems to hear, however, because he steps forward once more and says, “You can’t. Because what you want isn’t something I’m willing to put myself through and you don’t want to do the obvious thing and let go of all the hate you have towards yourself. You want to pretend it never happened? Fine. It never happened. But I’m not going to stick around, knowing you’re convincing yourself of that every waking moment.”

Stomach churning, Ten opens his eyes and sees that Hendery’s turned away, heading back to his car. Ten stumbles forward. “Please, Hendery.”

“No. I’m not doing this!” he yells back from the driver’s side door. Yelling to be heard over the rain or simply because he needs to yell, Ten doesn’t know. Either way, it’s loud and gravelly and so raw that Ten tenses. “You can’t ask me to do this, Ten. Do us both a favor, yeah? Start believing in yourself more. Only you can convince yourself you’re worth it. And, believe me, you are. I’m just sorry I can’t teach it to you. I can’t help a person who doesn’t want to be helped.”

With that, Hendery gets into his car, door slamming. Ten fumbles backward as the Kia swings out of the parking spot. Ten moves to follow it as it speeds its way out of the lot, but he knows it’s hopeless and comes to a halt. He doesn’t even know he’s crying until he manages to get his legs working again, turning back toward the building.

Sicheng is at the door when he gets there. He takes Ten in his arms, worried eyes flittering over his dripping form. “You’re soaked to the bone,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down Ten’s arms to help warm him. “You need to get dry. Where’s Hendery? What’s going on? Ten, you’re crying. Yuta, grab me a towel!”

Wordlessly, Ten lets himself be moved to a chair by the door. Yuta returns later with a couple of towels and Sicheng wraps them around Ten’s shoulders, talking mindlessly. Ten barely registers the fact that their crew won. It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters because Ten’s screwed up so badly and the pain of it is coming out in tears he can’t stop no matter how hard he tries. He gasps for air, lungs screaming and throat sore. Before he knows it, Sicheng’s wrapped around him and Ten is falling apart in his arms.

When he finally calms, tears dry, Sicheng leans away with a furrowed brow. They’re the only people in the lobby and that makes Ten think that the majority of the crowd must have left while he was having a meltdown while the rest are still inside the theater.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sicheng asks.

Ten shakes his head. His wet hair is sticking uncomfortably to the back of his neck. “I want to go home.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll get Yuta and we’ll drive you back, all right? Will you be all right for a moment?”

“I’m not five, Sicheng,” Ten says, tiredly.

Sicheng doesn’t respond. He simply gets up and disappears through the doors that lead backstage. In the quiet lobby, Ten can only hear his own ragged breathing and the drips of the water falling from him onto the tile floor.

Pulling the towel closer, Ten sinks his nose into the fabric. It’s not right that Ten’s getting doted on by his friends while Hendery is out there on his own. He hopes Hendery’s made it back to his apartment, to Dejun. At least then he wouldn’t be alone.

God, he’s such a fucking idiot. Why couldn’t he have just let it happened? He thinks back to the many conversations he had with his dad over the years, since he moved out, and he squeezes his eyes shut, hating the feeling of bile that rises in him.

“You’re distant,” his dad had said, during one particular call.

Ten remembers rolling his eyes. “We have the same conversation each time you call. I’m not using my powers for money, you don’t like that answer. Why would I want to keep talking about it?”

“That’s not it. Well, maybe a little. But you’ve been pushing yourself away from people since your mom died. Since you got your powers,” his dad had said. “You’ll fall into the shadows if you keep hiding scared. Make some friends, Ten. They’ll do you some good.”

It was the one time that Ten actually took the advice. He had found Johnny first and then Sicheng. Then everyone else. In a way, it had helped. They got Ten out, they distracted him—for the most part—from the ghosts he saw around the corners. But when Ten realized that even friends couldn’t keep him from the dead, he had reverted again. Just slightly differently.

Self-sabotage, he thinks. He’s so good at it. There he is, with a pretty perfect boy, who wants to be with him, and Ten’s running scared because why? He can’t even believe his old excuse anymore. Hendery’s strong enough to stick around if he believes he’s needed. He’s never turned away from Ten or Ten’s abilities. He’s only ever been kind, patient, and helpful.

Not to mention, he’s the only one to chase the shadows away, and even though Ten’s not sure how, he doesn’t really care.

He’s screwed up the one thing that could have been good. He’s shoved away a boy that he kind of—okay, _really_ —likes and could maybe learn to love and, _fuck_ , it hurts so much. 

*

Within twenty minutes, Ten’s back in his apartment. Sicheng had tried to stay, but, with a bit of help from Yuta, Ten convinces him to go to dinner with Taeyong and the others. They leave him alone.

Ten takes a severely hot shower before crawling into bed. Everything’s given out on him. He can’t even feel his heart anymore and his limbs don’t want to move once he’s hit the mattress. Judging by his reflection in the mirror earlier, his eyes are puffy and red, sore like all hell. He closes them with a sigh, praying for sleep to find him soon.

The dark settles around him and Ten doesn’t mind this time. Besides the faint whisper, there’s nothing there that he needs to worry about. He finds himself drifting and he’s nearly there when something cold washes over him.

His body jolts as if he’s fallen against the bed with great force. Blinking away the sleepiness, he sits up and almost immediately, his eyes fall on the corner of the room. Cold shutters through him, spreading out from his heart to his limbs. His fingers clench the blankets as he studies the dark figure in the corner.

It fizzles a bit, the edges smoothing. Ten sucks in a breath. There, in the corner, buried beneath shadow, is Hendery. He looks exactly how Ten saw him in the parking lot before he left. His eyes are tired, dark, and full of pain. The water dripping off him never hits the floor, vanishing before it touches as if it had never been there in the first place.

Ten lurches forward to the end of the bed. “H-Hendery?”

For a minute, Hendery isn’t quite looking at him, but through him. Then, his eyes drift down to meet Ten’s gaze and he frowns. “Ten? What’s going on?”

No.

No.

“Fuck, no,” Ten whispers. He forces himself to get off the bed and steps toward Hendery, feeling the familiar chill of the dead sink into him. “Hendery, what—”

But then Hendery’s gone and Ten sees nothing but shadows lurking in the corner of his room. It takes a moment to realizes what’s happened. He throws himself out of his room and the front door is slamming open at the same time.

Sicheng’s eyes are wide and searching and Yuta looks just as frazzled as Ten feels. The muscles in Sicheng’s jaw twitches and Ten knows what they’re thinking.

“Hendery,” Ten says.

Yuta snatches Ten’s jacket off the rack and throws it to him. “Hospital. Now.”

On their way, Sicheng tells Ten that Taeyong felt it. That something had happened, but he didn’t know what. He had tracked Hendery’s thoughts until he lost them completely.

Probably because he had died.

Ten’s stomach twists and he tries not to throw up in the backseat of Yuta’s car. It may be ugly, but it doesn’t deserve that. Sicheng’s texting someone, or everyone. Ten doesn’t care to ask. He just digs his fingers into the seat, watching the world speed past them.

“Taeyong has Dejun and YangYang,” Sicheng says, finally. “You saw him.”

Ten can’t seem to get his tongue to work so he nods instead and Sicheng spins away, jaw tight, and hand to his face. Ten thinks Sicheng’s trying to keep it together because he feels like someone needs to. Yuta blares the horn when the car in front of them can’t turn fast enough, colorful swear words pouring from his lips. Sicheng reaches to take his hand until both of their knuckles are white.

They speed into the parking lot, the tall, boxy hospital looming over them in the dark of night. Ten doesn’t like hospitals, for obvious reasons. People die, and a lot of ghosts stay. Ten tries to keep his distance. Still, he has no choice and he’s the first one through the doors, nearly running into the front desk.

“Hendery,” Ten manages, gasping. “Kunhang Wong. Is—is he here? I need to see him.”

Sicheng takes over as soon as he arrives, pushing Ten to Yuta, who takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. Their words are a muddled mess. It’s like their voices are underwater, warbly and nearly incomprehensible. Before he knows it, Sicheng is dragging him through the door, down a couple corridors, and forcing him into a chair, taking the one to his right.

“He was brought in a couple minutes ago,” Sicheng says, voice cracking just slightly. He clears his throat. “They’ve stabilized him.”

“Where is he?” Ten asks.

“Surgery. She said we can wait here. Taeyong’s almost here with the rest.” Sicheng takes his hand and Yuta puts an arm around his shoulders.

“What happened?”

“His car went off the road.”

Ten really feels like he’s about to be sick. Still, he holds it down and glues his eyes to the wall. He hasn’t seen Hendery again, so that’s a good sign, right? It has to be.

“Sicheng!”

YangYang comes running down the hall in a blur of motion. Sicheng catches him in a tight hug and Ten notices that YangYang is crying, tears soaking into Sicheng’s shoulder. Dejun is also there. His arm is hooked through Johnny’s, eyes searching but not seeing. His brows are creased and his lips pulled tight.

“Ten,” Taeyong says, kneeling before him. “Ten, look at me,”

As soon as he meets his gaze, his bottom lip trembles and eyes burn, ready to cry. “I saw him,” he whimpers and Taeyong nods.

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry,” Taeyong says. He grips Ten’s knee.

Ten notes how Taeyong refuses to say it’ll be okay, that everything will work out. Ten’s not sure if he appreciates it or not. They won’t know anything until Hendery gets out of surgery because everything is so relative. Life throws them curveballs and even Taeyong doesn’t have infinite knowledge.

A deep, booming voice echoes down the corridor and they all turn to see Lucas shoving his way through a couple of nurses, trying to keep him calm and not scare anyone in the vicinity. Lucas marches down the hall and Taeyong stands to meet him. Taeyong puts a hand up to stop the nurses from getting closer. He grabs Lucas’ shoulders, whispers a few words, and every muscle in Lucas’ body gives out. Taeyong and Jungwoo catch him before he can hit the floor and move him into a chair. He folds small, sniffling into his sleeves.

Taeyong says something else that Ten can’t quite catch, but it isn’t to Lucas or Jungwoo, but to Mark and his friend, Donghyuck, who seemed to have come along. Mark’s clutching onto Donghyuck’s jacket, as if he’s searching for something to keep him rooted. Mark nods to whatever Taeyong had said, and motions for Donghyuck to sit. Mark takes a spot next to him. There’s a bandage on his forehead.

Ten squeezes Yuta’s hand. “It’s my fault,” he mumbles. “It’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuta questions, quietly. “None of this is your fault. It was an accident. Ten, he’ll be okay.”

Shaking his head, he says, “You don’t know that. None of us know that. Yuta, I saw his ghost. He came to me and it was the worst fucking feeling I’ve ever felt in my life.”

He let’s go of Yuta to bury his face in his hands. He can hear YangYang’s sobs and the sniffles coming from Lucas. It makes his body shake, desperate to breakdown once more for the night.

“Ten?”

Eyes snap open, Ten gasps. Right in front of him, squatting between his legs, is Hendery. He’s blinking up at Ten with round, dark eyes. When he tilts his head, Ten realizes he’s not as wet as before. Ten’s hand slaps to his mouth just as a whimper escapes. Everyone turns to him.

Sicheng is at his side within second. “What is it? Ten, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Ten,” Hendery repeats. The corner of his lips is twitching into a sad sort of smile. “You can see me.”

“H-Hendery.” Ten’s voice comes out as a broken whisper and he can hear Dejun inhale sharply from the other side of Yuta. “No. No, you’re not dead.”

“Kind of feel like it,” Hendery says as he looks down at his hands. “It’s weird. I’m not sure I like it.”

“You’re not allowed to die. You can’t leave yet. I—I can’t let you leave.”

Hendery chuckles. “There you go. Picking what I want again. So bossy. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Tears are streaming down Ten’s face as he reaches out. His fingers graze the air, right where Hendery’s cheek is. It’s cold. A sob breaks through his lips.

“You’ll be okay, Ten,” Hendery tells him, softly.

Ten shakes his head. “No, I won’t. You can’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me. Please. I haven’t even—we haven’t—Please, don’t go.”

“I’m sorry,” Hendery says, smile dimming. “I’m sorry we didn’t work. I’m sorry I yelled. I should have been there for you more.”

“You were there for me,” Ten tells him, weakly. Tears well in his eyes until Hendery’s nothing but a blur. “You were always there, so don’t apologize. Don’t leave me. We—We can make it work. Please.”

“It’ll be okay,” is all Hendery says. He smiles full this time, showing all his teeth and his eyes crinkling at the edges. 

And then he’s fading and Ten launches himself off the chair. But he hits nothing on the way. Hendery is gone from sight, and Ten’s heart is breaking all over again. Fingernails dragging across the tile floor, Ten cries. Even though he can feel hands on him and hear voices, none of them fully click in his mind. He clings to the last thing Hendery said, his final smile. Ten sinks, pressing his forehead to the floor.

This is it. This is how it ends.

“God fucking damn it.” He slams a fist against tiles and screams. He’s never felt so weak in his life.

“Ten. Ten, can you hear me? You need to breathe. Ten, breathe.” Taeyong’s voice slips through Ten’s sobs. It’s calm, gentle, and so desperate for Ten to listen to. “Breathe for me, Ten.”

“He’s dead,” he whispers as he raises his head, wiping at his nose. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

Arms wrap around him, holding him close. Ten buries his head into the crook of Taeyong’s neck and clings to him, tears still flowing. “Keep breathing. That’s it. Inhale, exhale.”

“Tae—”

“I know, just breathe.”

It takes a while until Ten’s breathing is smooth enough for Taeyong to lean away. Hands cup his face and Ten is forced to stare into Taeyong’s eyes. They’re sharp, bright, and aged with so much knowledge he never wanted to learn.

“He’s not dead,” Taeyong states. “Are you hearing me? Hendery is alive.”

“B-But I saw him. He was right—he was right there.”

Taeyong nods. “I know. They lost him for a moment, but he’s okay now. Look.”

Ten turns to see another, older man near them. He’s kneeling on the floor with them, eyes assessing Ten. The white lab coat and badge pinned to the breast pocket tells Ten he’s a doctor.

“He’s not dead?” Ten asks, slowly, terrified to know the answer.

The doctor shakes his head. “I’m Mr. Lee. Hendery’s stable. He’s in an induced coma right now, but the surgery went well and he’ll be just fine.”

Body giving out, Ten leans into Taeyong and exhales deeply. He’s never felt so drained in his life. His stomach, his heart, his throat all hurt. One of the nurses comes back with a paper cup of water for him and asks him if he needs anything. He can’t form any more words, so it’s Taeyong that turns her away.

He doesn’t remember anything past that point. He vaguely remembers the doctor telling them that Hendery can’t have visitors just yet and to come back. It takes a while to leave, though. No one wants to go, especially Lucas, YangYang, and Dejun. Especially Ten. He remains in the middle of the hallway, replaying Hendery’s words, his face, Ten’s breakdown, everything over the past forty-five minutes repeatedly in his head.

_“I’m sorry we didn’t work.”_

Ten clutches the paper cup until it crinkles.

_“I should have been there for you more.”_

Hastily, he wipes at his eyes before any more tears can fall. His eyes are too tired to continue this any longer.

_“It’ll be fine.”_

Will it, though? Ten curls up, watching Taeyong talk to the doctor with Sicheng. It’s a lot of nodding, a lot of short questions and answers. Ten’s not sure if everything will be fine because even though Hendery’s survived, it doesn’t mean he’ll change his mind. It’s not like Hendery will welcome him back with open arms and forget the whole thing. Ten wouldn’t blame him if Hendery wanted nothing more to do with him _especially_ after this.

“We’re going to go now,” Sicheng says, bending so he can be at Ten’s height on the floor. “We can come back tomorrow to see him. He needs rest now. Come on.”

He says, “I don’t want to leave.”

“I know.” Sicheng takes his hands and helps him to his feet. “But you need rest, too. Don’t worry, he’s in good hands. Let’s go home, Ten.”

*

Ten’s night is a sleepless one because, every time he closes his eyes, he sees the events again and again. He ends up sobbing into his pillow in the early morning sometime between three and four when the shadows come back after weeks of being relatively silent.

It’s different than before, though. They brush along him, still sending chills down his spine, but it’s comforting, welcoming. Ten breathes it in, desperate for familiarity after feeling so lost and weak for far too long. He tells them to back off when it starts to feel suffocating—like when Sicheng won’t stop asking him if he’s okay—and they do, surprisingly. They drift along the edges of the room, in the corners, until the sun peeks through his curtains to tell him morning’s finally arrived.

He forces himself to unbury himself from the blankets and head to the bathroom to shower and change. When he comes out, Yuta’s at the table and Sicheng’s hovering over the stove. The smell that hits his nose is sweet, yet tangy. Ten takes one of the chairs. Within seconds, a plate of steaming food is placed in front of him.

“How did you sleep?” Sicheng asks, quietly.

Ten takes a bite and allows it to warm him from the inside out. “I didn’t.”

“Neither did we. We were thinking about going to visit after breakfast. Did you want to come?”

Nodding, Ten finishes his plate off, sets it in the sink, and grabs his jacket. The three of them head to the hospital in utter silence, the events of last night are still fresh and wearing. Ten knows it’s haunting each and every one of them.

A nurse shows them to Hendery’s room. She tells them he’s still unconscious, but Ten takes that as a blessing because he’s not sure he’s ready to talk to Hendery just yet. So, the three of them move together into the room. Ten hates the atmosphere, especially when the door closes behind them. Despite the bright walls and floors, the room is heavy and dull around the edges. A faint beeping reverberates off the walls from the heart monitor that’s attached to Hendery.

Ten bites his lip, taking in the form on the bed. Hendery’s never looked so small, so vulnerable. His head is wrapped with white bandages. His casted leg is propped up from a sling hanging from the ceiling. He has an arm wrapped and his skin is either bruised or scratched. Ten still doesn’t know what happened to Hendery’s accident, but judging by his appearance, it hadn’t been an easy slide into the ditch. Ten vaguely thinks Taeyong said something about rolling, hitting a tree or a poll. He doesn’t care. That’s not what’s important.

“Dejun?” Sicheng’s voice catches Ten’s attention.

Sitting in one of the chairs in the corner, fast asleep and holding Hendery’s free hand, is Dejun. His dark hair falls to his eyes, lips slightly parted as he lets out small puffs of air. Ten doesn’t think he went home, if his clothing gives anything away.

Sicheng shakes Dejun’s shoulders until his eyes are fluttering open. He frowns and makes a noise. Reaching for the counter to the side, Sicheng gets Dejun a paper cup of water.

“It’s me, Sicheng. Yuta and Ten are with me.”

“Were you here all night?” Yuta asks.

Dejun nods. “I’m his emergency contact. The only ‘family’ he has right now in the area. I didn’t want to leave him and used that as an excuse to stay. What time is it?”

“Just after nine. Do you want me to take you home? You can freshen up and come back.”

“No. I don’t want to leave him.”

Dejun’s hand doesn’t leave Hendery’s and Ten’s heart aches. He can just see how tight their friendship is. It makes Ten think of what would happen if Sicheng or Johnny were in that bed. Ten would cling to them, too. He kind of wants to cling to Hendery, as well, but he doesn’t want to overstep a boundary.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dejun says, suddenly and Ten tears his eyes from Hendery. “You didn’t do this. He lost control in the rain. Car flipped and hit a street light. You have nothing to blame yourself for.”

Ten crosses his arms and looks down. “He was angry. We fought before he left.”

“Did you force him into that car? Hendery made his own choice and a freak accident happened. He has a habit of driving around to calm himself. I know about you, Ten. You take burdens on your shoulders you don’t need to. You can rest easy knowing this is one burden you really don’t need to hold. Understand?”

It takes several moments for Ten to speak because he would nod, but Dejun wouldn’t see that. His voice feels so rough and raw from crying so much that it actually hurts to talk. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Dejun starts to get up. “Could one of you grab my cane? I need to head to the bathroom.”

“I’ll take you,” Sicheng says, though he hands the cane over anyway. “Yuta, why don’t you get him some food?”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m fine, really.”

“You’ve been here all night. You’re eating,” Sicheng states. Yuta’s out of the room in a blink and Sicheng and Dejun are close to follow. “Take your time, Ten.”

The door clicks softly behind him. Hendery’s eyelashes flutter, but he makes no other movement, so Ten decides it’s safe to step closer. He’s not expecting Hendery to wake up. The nurse had told them he’d be unconscious for a while longer, most likely.

“Sicheng thinks that leaving me here will make me say something profound while you’re out cold,” Ten says as he takes the chair Dejun had vacated. The legs scrape across the ground when he drags it closer. “I wonder if you can hear me? I suppose now would be a good time to talk without you answering with something smart.”

The monitor beats, slow and steady. Ten sets his hand on the bed, his fingers a hair’s width away from Hendery’s own. He’s still not certain if he should take it just yet.

Hendery looks calm. It’s probably the drugs, but it still makes Ten a little relieved because Hendery had not looked well when he last saw him. His heart pangs and he blows out a breath, glancing around the room.

“You were right, you know,” Ten whispers. “About everything. I guess, I just fell into a hole that I couldn’t figure out how to get out of. I had things that worked for a while, to help. But, then, I just gave up. Hanging out with you was kind of refreshing.” He breathes out a laugh. “I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I still think you deserve better than me, but I also can’t stop being selfish and wanting you by my side. If you still want to be there, that is. At this point, I’d accept anything you give me after what I put you through.”

He drags his fingers over the cotton sheets so they’re just a little bit closer to Hendery’s. Biting his lip, he links his pinky through Hendery’s and the corner of his lips twitch.

“This is our pinky promise because you’re going to promise to wake up soon,” Ten declares, eyes burning. “You have to wake up, okay? Because we have to start preparing for the next competition.” He looks at the ceiling, trying to control himself because he’s _not_ going to cry again. “I’m so sorry, Hendery. For everything. For what it’s worth, I really do like you. And I want to say it to your face while you’re conscious. So, don’t wait too long.”

He hears the door crack open and his hand slips from Hendery’s when he sees Lucas and Jungwoo arrive. They welcome him with tired smiles and Ten returns the favor. The conversation is brief because, not long after, Yuta, Sicheng, and Dejun come back. The nurses show up after a few minutes to tell them there are too many people in the room, so Ten takes that moment to excuse himself. Sicheng and Yuta follow shortly.

“You all right?” Sicheng asks when they get to the car.

Ten nods. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry. The nurse says he’s out of the woods. He’ll be up and kicking before we know it.”

He will be. Ten knows he will be.

With one last glance at the hospital, Ten gets into the back seat and heads home.

*

Ten’s ashamed to say that he doesn’t go back. There’s just something about it that feels too friendly for how they left things off and, while he wants to see Hendery, he doesn’t want to insert himself when there are so many other people who should be there more than him. YangYang gives them updates and sometimes Sicheng visits with flowers Ten’s picked out.

He finds out the day after he visited that Hendery woke up. It’s a kind of relief he’s never felt in his life. It’s subtle, but intense at the same time, and Ten’s just so happy that Hendery’s made it this far. He doesn’t ask if Hendery’s mentioned him and he’s told all his friends that he doesn’t want to know. Perhaps it’s just him delaying the not impossible rejection he might receive once Hendery is really up and walking.

Before he knows it, though, it’s been just over a week and Hendery’s out of the hospital now. Lucas is staying with him since Dejun still needs a set of eyes for some things and it just makes things easier. At least, that’s what Taeyong says when they meet in the hallway.

Ten can tell that Taeyong’s holding back on information. His words are carefully chosen, soft yet thorough. Taeyong doesn’t need to tell Ten that it’s not his fault anymore, but his eyes still convey it when they talk about Hendery and Ten still shrugs it away because, well, he still kind of thinks it is in a very small way. Regardless, he keeps his mouth closed.

He keeps himself busy, preparing for the new semester and fitting in as many dance practices he can without looking like he’s punishing himself subconsciously. And that’s how he finds himself on Saturday morning, in the middle of the dance studio with his music blasting through the speakers and his body reacting to the beat.

He’s barely made it through the third song when his phone goes off, the chipper ring cutting through the ballad. He hurries and answers it, panting.

“Hello?”

His father’s voice comes through, loud and clear. “Kiddo! How you doing?”

“I’m fine.” He fluffs his fringe from his sweaty forehead. “What do you need, dad?”

“Can’t I just call to see how my boy is doing?” he asks and Ten rolls his eyes. “It’s been a while since we last talked. How did the competition go?”

“We won.”

“That’s my boy! When are you visiting?”

Ten leans against the mirrors with a sigh. “I don’t know. School’s about to start up and you know it’s always busy.”

“Too busy to see your old man?” He huffs. “You had the whole summer and you never once came to see me. It’s like you want me to be lonely.”

“That’s not it and you know it,” Ten replies, swiftly. “Every time I come home, you try taking me places to talk to ghosts, and I don’t want to do that on my break. I don’t even want to do that on the daily. I want to be able to come home and just crash. If I can’t have that, I’m not coming home. We’ve talked about this.”

“I just want you to do something more with your life. You have the powers. Why not use them?”

“Because I don’t want to turn out like mom!” His voice echoes off the walls. His father falls silent. Taking a deep breath, he adds, “My powers aren’t all I have, dad. I have so many skills. I’m good at dancing, I’m a good performer. I’m going to make money through the stage.”

“And what’s the shelf life for that?” is what Ten gets back. “What happens when you get too old? When you can’t dance anymore? And injuries? One wrong move and you’ve broken something and you won’t be able to get back on stage again. Your powers won’t go away.”

Ten grits his teeth. “You won’t ever understand what it’s like going day after day dealing with death. You won’t ever get it and I’m not asking you to. I’m only asking you to support what I want and stop forcing me to do something I hate. It’s draining. I’m tired all the time. Mom worked herself into an early grave with her abilities and I won’t follow her. You can’t ask me to do that. I can’t believe you’d even want me to do that. But if you can’t deal with it then stop talking to me. Because I’m not going to keep listening to this whenever you decide you want quick cash and someone’s asked you to take a look into a Casper problem.”

The line is quiet and then there’s a tone. Ten pulls his phone away to find the call ended, though he can’t find it in himself to be upset about it. It’s time he starts doing what’s right for him and his mental health and keeping a father who is constantly belittling his dreams is not helping. He doesn’t want to think the bridge is completely burned. He’s pretty sure that his father will call again in a few months. But Ten’s also pretty sure he won’t pick it up. Not until his father’s changed his mind. And that might never happen.

Sliding down to the floor, Ten stretches out his legs and closes his eyes. There’s been so much happening that Ten literally wants to just pass out because of it. He’d welcome sleep if it wanted to drop by. It’s going to take a while, he thinks, but sooner or later he’ll learn how to deal with stress, deal with his hatred for his abilities. He’ll get there.

“Ten?”

Ten’s head whips toward the door at the sound of the voice. It’s soft, a little hesitant, but oh so welcomed and Ten’s heart does indeed stop for a split second when he catches sight of the familiar form of Hendery at the door.

He’s in an oversized jacket and ball cap, his brown hair curling around his ears. Ten’s happy to see that he looks refreshed, not as tired as he was back on competition day. No more pale complexion or dark circles. The thing that catches Ten’s attention, however, is the fact that he’s not on crutches, nor in a wheel chair. He doesn’t look injured at all.

“You—You’re here?” Ten stutters as he scrambles to his feet. He blinks a few more times, trying to see if perhaps he’s hallucinating. He’s not. “You’re not hurt?”

As if he didn’t realize, Hendery looks down on himself before glancing at Ten with wide eyes. “Yeah. Um, actually,” he rubs at the nape of his neck, cheeks brightening, and Ten’s heart melts because, _god_ , he’s missed him so much it’s almost impossible, “you can thank your friend for that.”

Ten frowns. “My friend?”

“Kun?”

Eyebrows shooting up, Ten repeats, “Kun?”

“Yeah, uh, I guess he’s been visiting before I even woke up. His abilities are pretty incredible.” Hendery slightly lifts his leg up—the one that had clearly been broken before. “He came by every day to heal me a bit. He kept apologizing that he couldn’t do it all at once. I don’t think he needed to, though. Seemed like it was pretty draining and I was just happy to take what I could get. He healed my eyesight, too. By accident, but still.”

“You have bad eyesight?” Ten asks, still a little lost for words, so he’s grasping at straws until he can get his vocabulary back.

Hendery smiles. “Well, not anymore.”

The tension doesn’t feel as bad as Ten had anticipated, but his body is still preparing for the worst. His shoulders feel tight and his feet can’t decide if they want to run away from or run to Hendery. It makes it even more difficult when Hendery fully moves into the studio, closing the door behind him, and shoving his hands into his pockets, looking like he’s about to unload everything onto Ten in less than a minute. Ten’s not sure if he’s ready for that.

“How are you?” Hendery asks, suddenly, as he moves around the edge of the room. He’s across from Ten now.

“I should be asking you that,” Ten replies.

Hendery shrugs. “I think my answer is pretty obvious. Healed and moving. Can’t get much better than that, can it?”

“Probably can.”

“Probably.” Hendery shuffles his feet. “So, how are you?”

Ten bites the inside of his cheek, pressing his back against the mirrors. “Better.”

An awkward sort of silence settles around them and it makes Ten antsy. He has so much to say and yet so little at the same time. It makes his head spin. He had kind of been hoping to plan to see Hendery, so he could prepare a bit. This definitely isn’t what he was expecting.

“That’s good,” Hendery says, finally. “I’m glad.”

“What—” Ten clears his throat when his voice cracks. “What do you remember?”

Pursing his lips, Hendery flicks his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “Not much, really. It’s all kind of a blur. I remember us fighting,” Ten flinches, “and I remember driving. The road got slippery and I lost control. After that there’s just flashes of things. Like, glass and metal and lights. I think I heard sirens, maybe. Must have, right? And I,” he pauses, eyes falling on Ten, “remember seeing you. It was brief. I thought it was a dream, but…”

“It wasn’t,” Ten says. “You showed up in my room.”

“I’m sorry.”

Ten blinks. “Why are you sorry?”

“I don’t think I’d want someone appearing in my room in the middle of the night. Would you?”

“I wasn’t put off because of that,” he admits. “It was just terrifying, in general. I knew it was your spirit. I knew you were dead, but I didn’t know where you were or what happened. When you disappeared, I thought that you had moved on or something. I thought I had lost you.”

“They said I died coming out of the car, but they managed to get me back,” explains Hendery. “In surgery, they lost me again. And I know I saw you that time. I _knew_ that one wasn’t a dream.”

Images of Hendery kneeling before him, telling him everything will be okay, flash in his mind. Ten rubs at his arms as the goosebumps rise. “You apologized to me as if you needed to. You shouldn’t have. It should have been me apologizing to you. I was horrible and you were so good to me.”

“What can I say? I like you. Makes it easy to forgive your idiot moments. Well, most of them, anyway.”

Ten, most ungracefully, sputters. His cheeks start to warm and he turns away. “Still?”

“Still what?”

Just judging by his tone, Hendery’s smiling, and when Ten looks back there’s proof of that. White teeth and all. Even a bit of a glow that Ten thought he’d never see again.

“You still like me? After everything?”

“Ten, I never suddenly stopped liking you. I just didn’t want to have to deal with you pushing and pulling because you couldn’t make up your damn mind. I’m patient, but I’m not a toy. I’m smart enough to know that if I had stuck around with the way you were acting, I was going to get hurt, in the end.”

Ten shrinks a bit. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did and I—”

“I know.”

“What do you mean?”

Hendery starts his way across the room and Ten fights himself to stay where he is. “I heard you while I was out of it. Hearing’s the last to go and the first to come back, you know? They said that I had a broken leg, fractured wrist, dislocated shoulder, punctured lung and chipped ribs, and a concussion.”

“Did they now?” Ten nearly squeaks when Hendery stops a foot away. “Quite a list.”

“It is,” he agrees. “And you know what? None of that really mattered when you told me you liked me. Except, you wanted to say it to my face while I was conscious, so here I am.” He throws out his arms. “In the flesh. Fully breathing. And very much awake, might I add.”

Ten isn’t sure where to look, He knows he should be looking at Hendery, but the embarrassment curling in his stomach is directing his attention everywhere but him. Of course, Hendery doesn’t allow that for long because, sure enough, there’s a hand on his chin, tilting his face so he has no choice but to stare directly into Hendery’s eyes.

There’s a bursting sort of feeling in his chest because, _god_ , Hendery looks good. But he also looks healthy and alive and Ten would rather have that then anything else in the world in this moment in time.

“I like you,” he mutters before he can even think, before the words have even formed in his mind. “I really like you and I’m so sorry I put you through hell and back. It wasn’t fair of me to say those things to you and expect you to just take it. None of that was my intention. I don’t even really know what my intention was anymore. I just really, really like you.”

“Well,” Hendery says, “that’s good because I just happen to really like you, too. What a coincidence.”

Ten can’t help but smack his arm and Hendery laughs, letting go of Ten’s chin so he can rock away just in case Ten takes a swing again. But he doesn’t. Instead, Ten grabs at Hendery’s collar and pulls him close. Their chests bump together. Ten grins when Hendery glows.

“You really should get that glowing thing under control,” Ten whispers, leaning in.

“Please, you like it.”

“Yeah, guess I do.”

It’s like a sigh of relief when they kiss, Hendery’s lips firm against Ten’s. It’s as if everything clicks into place and Ten is all for it. There’s softness in the touches, though the kiss itself is anything but. Ten thinks it’s kind of perfect the way they meet, the way their lips slot together as if it’s meant to be. Ten’s not a believer in fate. However, if he was, he might say this moment was feeling pretty dang close.

His back presses against the cold mirrors and Hendery places his hands on Ten’s lower back, arching him forward. Ten’s breath hitches. Kissing Hendery, Ten decides, is sort of like dancing. His body does the work and everything feels like he’s going skyward, like his feet aren’t even on the ground anymore. It’s relieving and calming and solid.

Perhaps, Ten’s not totally set with his life yet. He still doesn’t like his abilities. They still tire him out, distract him from life—there are still ghosts that wake him up in the middle of the night, demanding help. The shadows, though not as clingy, are still there in the night and Ten’s starting to learn how to handle it. And the more comfortable he is, the easier it is to shove them away. Best of all, at least he’s not alone. His friends are still there to listen when Ten finally decides to explain himself completely.

And Hendery’s there to chase away the shadows, whether he needs to or not. Ten might be all darkness, but Hendery is all light, and maybe they aren’t so opposite it won’t work. Maybe they’re just opposite enough to fit together like puzzle pieces. Ten likes that.

He likes that a lot.

*Feel Free to come talk to me on [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/DiamantNoir)*

**Author's Note:**

> Superpowers:  
> Johnny - Enhanced strength  
> Taeyong - Telepathy - Ability to read minds  
> Yuta – Materialization – Ability to create objects from nothing  
> Kun - Healing - Ability to heal most--if not all--injuries  
> Doyoung - Mesmerism - Ability to mesmerize people into doing what he says  
> Ten – Necromancy – Ability to see and communicate with the dead  
> Sicheng – Illusions – Ability to alter or deceive the perception of reality  
> Jungwoo - Hydrokinesis - Ability to control water  
> Lucas - Teleportation - Ability to travel by folding space  
> Mark - Dream Jumping - Ability to jump into others' dreams  
> Dejun - Invisibility - Ability to become invisible to the naked eye/as well as giving him the ability to see  
> Hendery - Photokinesis - Ability to control light  
> YangYang - Enhanced Speed
> 
> Series (Publication Order):  
> I Want You More Than I Want Superpowers  
> Live Young, Die Free  
> The Way You Want Me  
> Silhouettes Dancing
> 
> Series (Chronological Order):  
> Live Young, Die Free  
> The Way You Want Me  
> I Want You More Than I Want Superpowers  
> Silhouettes Dancing
> 
> Only three more parts to go!


End file.
